Lessons from Shenandoah: Step Across Part II

July 16, 2025

While hiking through Shenandoah with my boys and some friends, we often come across rocky chasms and streams that force us to leap forward—to step across.

These moments are more than physical challenges; they’ve become powerful reminders of deeper spiritual truths.

One such lesson is the importance of stepping across the chasms that exist in our lives—the gaps created by broken relationships, old wounds, misunderstandings, or simply the passage of time. In those moments on the trail, I’m reminded that Christ calls us to do just that: to step across and move toward reconciliation.

But Christ doesn’t stop there. The call extends beyond our familiar circles. These hikes also remind me of the chasms between ourselves and those who are different from us—different in background, belief, culture, or lifestyle. In Romans 15:7, Paul writes, “Accept one another, then, just as Christ accepted you, in order to bring praise to God.” Christ calls us to embrace, not avoid, those differences—to build bridges, not walls.

I once saw a beautiful picture of this lived out in an unlikely place: a Major League Baseball locker room. A few years back, pitcher Cliff Lee dominated the Rays, securing the Texas Rangers’ first postseason series win. But what stood out even more than the victory was how the team chose to celebrate.

Rather than popping champagne as tradition dictated, they opted for ginger ale—out of respect for teammate and MVP candidate Josh Hamilton, a recovering alcoholic. “It meant a lot,” Hamilton said. “It just says a lot about my teammates, them understanding the sensitivity of my situation.” That moment was more than a gesture. It was a step across—a choice to sacrifice comfort and tradition out of love and understanding.

Of course, it’s easy to make those steps for someone we admire. But what about the stranger? The neighbor of a different color, culture, faith, or worldview? What about the one who doesn’t look like us, speak like us, or believe like us? Those chasms can feel too wide, too threatening—and so we retreat into what we know: our churches, our circles, our comfort zones.

But the gospel calls us out.

Reggie McNeal, in Missional Renaissance, writes, “Because God is on mission, the people of God are too. God is a sending God. Just as he sent his Son and his Holy Spirit to the world, he is sending his people into the world.”

Jesus said it plainly in Matthew 22:37–40: “Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind… and love your neighbor as yourself.”

McNeal reminds us, “Followers of Jesus take seriously Jesus’ claim that loving one’s neighbor ranks right up there with loving God.”

So, let’s listen to the call—whether it comes from a chasm on a mountain trail or a difficult moment in our communities. Christ has not only stepped across for us—he now invites us to do the same.

I’m reminded of a story I once heard at a Christian concert. The speaker shared how he walked into a local motorcycle shop to have his bike repaired. The place was filled with what he called “colorful characters”—leather jackets, tattoos, piercings, rough pasts, and bold personalities. They started talking to him, openly sharing stories of things they had done, lives they had lived.

He listened—and he learned. His eyes were opened.

Then he said something that’s stayed with me: “I can’t wait to get to heaven and see many of these same bikers—tattoos, piercings, and all—walking the golden streets.” And then he imagined the reaction of a straight-laced church member, standing there wide-eyed, mouth agape, whispering, “Oh my… how did they get here?” To which he would answer, “The same way you did… by grace.”

That’s the vision we’re given in Revelation 7:9:“I looked, and there before me was a great multitude that no one could count, from every nation, tribe, people, and language, standing before the throne and before the Lamb… And they cried out in a loud voice: ‘Salvation belongs to our God who sits on the throne, and to the Lamb.’”

Reggie McNeal, in Missional Renaissance, reminds us, “God so loved the world,” not just the church. He writes: “Jesus makes His home in the streets—wherever people are. In a church-centric world, we bring people out of the streets into the church. In a Kingdom-oriented world, we bring the church to the streets. People don’t go to church—they are the church.”

And that’s exactly what Paul did. He didn’t wait for people to come to a building—he brought the gospel to the people.

In Acts 20:19–24, Paul declares: “My life is worth nothing to me unless I use it for finishing the work assigned me by the Lord Jesus—the work of telling others the Good News about the wonderful grace of God.”

Paul knew his purpose. And nothing—not persecution, prison, betrayal, or hardship—could stop him from stepping across the barriers in his way.

In Acts 21, despite prophetic warnings that suffering awaited him in Jerusalem, Paul refused to turn back. His resolve stirred others to say, “The will of the Lord be done.”

And what did Paul do after he was arrested? He kept stepping across.

He shared Christ with jailers, with mobs, with kings and Roman governors. The man who once persecuted the church became its boldest messenger—all because he accepted the mission and refused to shrink back.

Each one of us has been placed in a unique neighborhood, workplace, school, or social circle. We’ve each been given gifts, passions, and opportunities to carry out the same calling: to make disciples and share the love of Christ. And often, that calling requires us to step across the chasms between us and those who are hurting, different, or far from God.

Will you step across when the opportunity is placed in front of you?

I can tell you—some of the times I’ve felt closest to God were when I accepted that invitation. Whether it was serving in Peru or Kentucky, praying with a beggar on the streets of Chicago or D.C., or simply offering kindness to someone the world had forgotten, God showed up. He met me in that space between comfort and compassion.

But I’ve also missed opportunities. Times when I was distracted, self-focused, or uncomfortable. Times I judged someone before I loved them. And maybe you’ve been there, too.

The good news is God’s grace doesn’t stop calling. Like Paul, we press on. We get back up. And we prepare to step across the next time the opportunity comes.

Let me share one more story.

A mother of three was finishing her college degree, and her final sociology assignment was simple: smile at three people and record their reactions. She thought it would be easy.

That weekend, while visiting McDonald’s with her husband and young son, two homeless men entered. The room seemed to tense. People stepped back—even her husband. The smell of unwashed clothes filled the air. One of the men, short with striking blue eyes, counted out a few coins. His friend, clearly mentally disabled, stood quietly behind.

The man smiled and said, “Good day,” then asked for a small coffee—just enough to sit inside and warm up. The woman felt a tug at her heart. People were watching her, judging what she would do. But she smiled and ordered two breakfast meals. Quietly, she carried them to the table, set the tray down, and touched the man’s cold hand.

Tears welled up in his eyes as he said, “Thank you.”

She replied, “I didn’t do this for you. God is here, working through me, to give you hope.”

That’s what it means to step across.

Christ stepped across the greatest chasm—leaving heaven, walking among us, and building a bridge from one nail-scarred hand to the other so that we could walk into relationship with God. And now He calls us to do the same for others.

1 John 4:7 says, “Beloved, let us love one another, for love is from God, and whoever loves has been born of God and knows God.”

As Lewis Smedes once wrote, forgiving and loving others “comes naturally to anyone who has felt the breath of God’s forgiving love on their own heart.”

So, let’s start somewhere.

• Begin with the stranger. When someone new walks into church next Sunday, don’t just smile—greet them. Sit beside them. Take time to learn their name and their story.

  
  

• Then step into your neighborhood. Who around you needs a listening ear or a warm invitation? Who can you take to coffee, not just to talk, but to truly hear?

  
  

• Finally, reach into your community. Ask yourself: How can I reflect God’s love to those who are overlooked—the forgotten, the struggling, the invisible?

Let us not wait for them to come to us. Start today. Step Across.