If you receive my Re{collection} letter each month, or if you happen to follow along on social media, you might already know that Brad and I returned recently from spending about six weeks over in Scotland. It was an incredible trip, an incredible gift. And one of the things I have not been able to stop thinking about since we’ve been back is our experience there with the wind. Now, we have lots of wind in Florida—hurricanes, tornadoes, even an afternoon thunderstorm can pack a punch as far as wind goes. The difference is that, in Florida, when the winds are high, we are advised to stay inside. And for the most part, we follow that guidance. But I quickly learned that if it’s windy in Scotland, for the most part, you just get on with it. And that shift meant I experienced the wind in a brand new way.

One of our first mornings in Edinburgh, Brad and I decided to climb Arthur’s Seat, an ancient volcano with a summit about 825 feet above sea level. It was a rare, beautiful, sunny day, and the views were incredible as we climbed. But I also noticed that the higher we climbed, the stronger the wind became. And I began to feel increasingly unsteady as that wind picked up. By the time we reached the highest summit, everything felt pretty shaky up there and I was actually pretty scared.

But what I noticed while navigating our way to the top was this pattern: the taller I stood, the more wobbly I felt. The wind felt pretty threatening standing tall and I felt pretty susceptible to it. But if I lowered myself, staying close to the mountain of earth beneath my feet, I felt sturdier. More assured that I could continue on. I spent some time exploring this pattern, trying to climb tall and then choosing to climb low. And sure enough, even though technically we were moving higher, the lower I got on the path, the more secure I felt.

This noticing proved to be very helpful, when a couple weeks later, we were in Skye hiking the Old Man of Storr, a rock formation with an hike-able elevation of about 900 feet. To say it was windy there feels like the understatement of the century. The power of the wind quite literally took our breath away. It quite literally knocked me to the ground several times. But as I hiked, I remembered the lesson of the pattern I’d noticed a couple weeks prior: as you climb high, it is good to bend low.

It might be a helpful bit to keep in mind when you’re hiking in the Scottish Highlands, but I also wonder if it could be a helpful image to remember as we navigate the days of our lives. Here’s what I mean.

As we journey with God through the ups and downs, twists and turns, stops and goes of life, the posture we assume, matters. And I’d like to offer that we might do well to bend low. Not in a way that diminishes the fullness of who we are, but in a way that grounds us, that keeps us close to the heart of God. To the way of Jesus. To the promptings of the Spirit. Rooted deep down in our souls.

I’m learning that when we try to stand taller than we ought, all on our own, pride, greed, control, selfish motives, and bitterness threaten to creep in.

And I’m also learning that if we seek to boldly bend low, we will find that we are sturdy and secure because God meets us on the ground, in the dirt. God walks with us in humility, generosity, compassion, kindness, patience, mercy, and peace. God leads and guides and empowers us in the hard work of love.

There’s an interesting couple of verses in the third chapter of the gospel of John. To give a little bit of context, these verses are part of a larger conversation happening between Jesus and Nicodemus. In John 3, verses 14 and 15, Jesus says,

"Just as Moses lifted up the snake in the wilderness, so the Son of Man must be lifted up, that everyone who believes may have eternal life in him.”

When Jesus refers to Moses lifting up a snake in the wilderness, he was referencing a story found in Number 21. This snake wasn’t a real snake, but a bronze snake that God told Moses to make in order to heal God’s people from the venom of actual snake bites. It’s a whole interesting story you might find worth reading and exploring at some point later on.

But in this conversation with Nicodemus, Jesus says that, just like that bronze snake, he must be lifted up, too. That through Jesus being lifted up, all of us and each of us might be healed. In being lifted up, the world might be made right.

The irony here though is that, for Jesus, being lifted up meant choosing to bend low. As low as he could go. He would be lifted up—on a cross. The ultimate humiliation in that day and age. And yet, we know, that part is not the end of the story. In bending low, Jesus reached the ultimate summit, and invites us to join him on the journey.

Now, when we seek to boldly bend low, we join Jesus on the way. A way not of arrogance, but of humility. Not of greed, but of generosity. Not of cynicism, but of compassion. Not of judgement, but of curiosity. Not of brokenness, but of wholeness, restoration, and peace. It’s the way of love. It’s the way Jesus paved all along throughout his life and ministry.

So today, what might it look like for us to remember the way of Jesus and boldly bend low?

It might look like honoring our limits, acknowledging we can’t do or know it all.

It might look like admitting we were wrong and seeking a better way next time.

It might look like standing with those in the margins, trusting that God is ever-present in those spaces.

It might look like leading with a listening ear rather than the desire to get in the last word.

It might look like a little more give, and a little less take.

And as we read in Philippians 2:5-11, it might look like cultivating

the same mind…in you that was[a] in Christ Jesus,

who, though he existed in the form of God,
did not regard equality with God

as something to be grasped,

but emptied himself,

taking the form of a slave,
assuming human likeness.

And being found in appearance as a human,

he humbled himself

and became obedient to the point of death—
even death on a cross.

Therefore God exalted him even more highly
and gave him the name

that is above every other name,

so that at the name given to Jesus

every knee should bend,

in heaven and on earth and under the earth,

and every tongue should confess
that Jesus Christ is Lord,

to the glory of God the Father.

May it be so. In your life and in mine. Amen.