In 2009 Noel and Lynne Hanna became the first married Irish couple to climb to the top of Mt Everest. A photo of that moment hangs in Dromara community centre. It’s not a brilliant image, it’s little wonder as it would be difficult to take a photo at 8,850m and with temperatures around – 20 Celsius. Their faces are covered by an oxygen mask. At that height they’re dying. I can’t imagine the risks they took to get to that moment, the training involved and the sacrifices they made. This photo doesn’t just capture an historical moment but a pivotal moment of personal triumphant.
As if that wasn’t enough, in May 2016 Lynne and Noel became the first married couple ever to climb Mt Everest from both sides. Amazingly Noel has climbed Mt Everest 10 times. Pause and take that in, Noel from the centre of the world (Dromara) has climbed to the top of the World 10 times.
That’s some achievement, yet only those who pass through the community centre and know where to look will see the photo that captures this couple’s amazing exploits. This photo in many ways is hidden away. Not like the gate I wrote about last month but definitely not as public as it should be. [If I had climbed Everest even once I’d want a billboard sized image of that moment as you enter the village.] This photo may not be as well-known as it deserves to be but the fact that it’s there at all says something about what we value. But what does it say?
This is the second of a series of blogs I’m calling Hidden Dromara. It’s an attempt to get us to slow down and look around at our village (or yours). When we do, we begin to notice how we (and those who have gone before us) have shaped the space we live in. I am convinced what we value and hold dear, flows into all we do. Or to come from the other direction, how we mold our world reveals our loves and longings. We give it it’s shape and structure. And the shape and structure we give it comes from what we believe is important. For instance, why is there a bridge on the Dromore Road into town? Simply (and obviously) because those who built it wanted to have a safe and dry way to cross the Lagan. They believed in safety and accessibility. What they valued, shaped what they did.
This isn’t just true about big things like bridges this is true of all we do no matter how small or insignificant it might seem. We may not be aware of it but the fingerprints of our loves and longings are everywhere. When we dust for them on the photo of Noel and Lynne Hanna (and the Sherpa) we discover written large across it is the word "achievement". We value achievement. And not just their achievement, all achievements.
We all strive to achieve. It seems to be a built in drive we have. The healthy infant does not need to be encouraged to sit up, turn over, crawl, walk. These milestones of achievement are markers of healthy development. We all may not reach the heights of Everest but we all want to reach our own personal heights. Like the child building a sandcastle on the beach, we all want to point to something and say ’look at what I did’.
These accomplishments we keep in our own ‘trophy cabinet’. We take them out and polish them as we show them to others. They in turn politely listen as in their head they rehearse their own achievements. Choosing the ones that will trump all that we have said. “The school team you played in were runners up? Well, I was in the team that won that tournament two years in a row.” (of course politeness only allows us to think this)
When we feel put down by others we instinctively reach into the trophy cabinet and remind ourselves “Well, at least I…”. When we fail, we repeat the mantra “I’m not useless, I once …”
These glorious moments of our past can lift our spirits and they can be a reminder of our declining years. Whatever they are, they matter to us and not just those that you would take a photo of. The everyday small things matter too, maybe even more so. Who hasn’t flopped onto the sofa at the end of a day and celebrated getting? Getting the kids to bed without another tantrum (from you, not them), getting the grass cut before it rained, getting the report in on time, getting the floors washed or just getting through the day. We work through our ‘to do list’ (at any given time I’ll have one in my back pocket). They set the tone for our day. A bad day is when we say; ‘I feel like I’ve achieved nothing’. While a good day we’ll say ‘what a day that was, I got through a lot today.’
We’re always striving. Even our leisure time is performance based, every step counted, every personal best recorded. But at least in our holidays we rest. Do we? Even here when the pressure should be off us we replace one set of achievements for another; setting ourselves greater challenges to reach, different mountains to climb.
The Real Hidden Dromara
In Dromara we are experts at putting on a good face but behind each of these masks is the hidden pain, frustration, sadness, joy, excitement that achieving and failing to achieve brings. It seems we can never rest from our efforts. We continually ‘chase after the wind’. Yet don’t we have a niggling suspicion that at the end of the day it all really doesn’t matter.
All we do won’t be remembered.
All we do will be surpassed by others.
It will need to be done again tomorrow.
In short all our personal trophies will be packed away when we die.
Where does that leave us? Depressed in the corner rocking ourselves in our misery. No, I hope not. There is a satisfaction and joy in achieving our goals. I’m sure behind the oxygen masks of Noel and Lynne Hanna you will see exhausted smiles. And why wouldn’t there be? They’ve earned the right to enjoy this moment. It’s the equivalent of us lesser beings flopping onto the sofa.
I don’t think the problem is with achieving; the problem is with ourselves. We lean too heavily upon what we have done.
What we have achieved or haven’t achieved becomes the foundation of how we see ourselves. It forms a sizable chunk of our identity. It's the lens through which we see ourselves. We are the ones whose garden is always tidy. Whose children are always well behaved. Who are successful. Who have scaled the heights. Or on the reverse side, we are the ones who always fail our exams, whose children are the talk of the town for the wrong reasons, who doesn’t have as good a job as others. We wrap our identity up in what we have done or what we can do.
But, when we think about it, our own achievements are too flaky and weak to build our identity upon. Some days we’re up, some days we’re down. Some days we fail, some days we succeed. How are we to think of our achievements and where can we find a secure place for our identity?
The surprising solution is found beside Dromara’s greatest monument to achievement. At the centre of the village is a beautiful stone and bronze tribute to the Dromara Destroyers. You can't miss it. Many motor bikers stop to read of the success of legendary Irish road racing quartet Brian Reid, Ray McCullough, Trevor Steele and Ian McGregor. But the solution is not found among the many words describing their exploits. No, fittingly, it’s found off to the side away from the impressive statuettes. If you look carefully you'll see blending in with the bushes a silhouette of an unassuming, unnamed outline of a British WW1 solider. This Tommy stands with his head bowed silently remembering those who have sacrificed their lives in war for others. He reminds us we enjoy our peace, freedom and security because of their achievements. We have done nothing. We can only look back with thankfulness to those who have sacrificed their lives for us.
[I think you know where I'm going with this.] When we think of that we aren’t a million miles from the solution to our problem (our identity wrapped up in our fickle achievements). The solution is to build our identity on the achievements of another. One whose achievements surpass that of the Tommy. One who became weak and helpless and died so that he might gather the failures, the foolish and the flawed. One who rose from the dead victorious and is seated in glory. Notice seated not striving. His achievements are secure and strong and finished not fickle and weak and temporary. His is the indestructible life. And when our identity is wrapped up in his life and his achievements that changes everything for us.
The photo speaks of our drive to achieve and that’s a good thing but it can take us off in the wrong direction. It can take us towards pride (in what we do) and pain (because it untimely doesn't work out for us).
Yet the good news is that Jesus frees us to achieve without arrogance and fail without fear because our identity isn’t in what we do but in what Jesus has done.
Now that’s some achievement!
Check out Scottie Scheffler's (Golf pro) take on achievement and identity
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