For several years now, my oldest son and I have been on a quest to climb the highest mountains in Colorado, known as “14ers” because they exceed 14,000 feet in altitude. We can’t hike every year, but this summer we were able to reach four more summits, bringing our total to thirty-seven.
As is often the case, the final hike of the week seemed the most difficult. The remote trail to 14,004 Sunshine Peak first passes over neighboring 14,037 Redcloud Peak, and then returns the same way. The 13-mile roller coaster hike requires over 4,800 feet of total elevation gain, and in our case about nine hours.
More than a thousand miles east of those two peaks, there is also a steep hill behind my house, though the elevation difference from top to bottom is probably only 50-75 feet. Not long ago, we had three dead or damaged trees cut down there. To save money I asked the guys to just leave the trees in manageable pieces, and I would finish the job and stack the logs.
It turned out to be a more difficult job than I expected. Not only was the hill steep, but the footing was often uneven. Some of the logs or branches required further trimming, and many were too heavy to carry and required slow rolling. As I pushed and carried and tossed dozens of logs up and down my own little hill, I recall thinking, “This is harder on my legs and back than mountain climbing in Colorado!”
Working hard on my own little hill that day was a good and thoughtful exercise. It helped me realize that, while the climb to the top of a 14er is demanding, it’s not really any harder than a hundred climbs up the hill in my own backyard.
That led me to think again about our Illinois mission field, the one right here in our own backyards. Yes, the lostness of our nation and the world is big, and our generous giving and sacrificial going are needed to send missionaries and church planters there. But here in Illinois, our churches are the missionaries. We are the missionaries. This is our hill. And it’s to our own backyard that we have the greatest responsibility.
This was never more evident to me than this past month when well-trained, compassionate Disaster Relief volunteers from dozens of IBSA churches all over the state converged on my hometown of Springfield, following the tornado and straight-line winds that downed countless trees and powerlines all over our city. As these missionaries from IBSA churches helped restore order—and hope—to more than 150 homes and families, I saw quite literally the impact of churches working together on backyard hills like mine.
Coordinated Disaster Relief ministry is just one reason we urge churches to give generously through the Mission Illinois Offering each year. While the offering helps support church planters, collegiate ministers, missions volunteers, and many other ministries here in Illinois, it also helps deliver key strategies, staff, and resources that focus on increasing the health, growth, and mission impact of more than 900 churches that are our missionary presence here.
For many, a mission trip or even an annual missions offering can feel like a big, one-time effort, much like my trip to the Colorado mountains. But here in Illinois, the second flattest state in the U.S., our mission field is more like 900 steep hills of hard work than one lofty 14er. And your Mission Illinois Offering helps our IBSA network assist each church in working its own hill more effectively, and in working the hill of our Illinois mission field together.
Learn more about the Mission Illinois Offering for state missions, including how to order additional offering materials for your church, at www.MissionIllinois.org.
Nate Adams is executive director of the Illinois Baptist State Association. Respond at IllinoisBaptist@IBSA.org.