The First Shall Be Last, and the Last, First

In the middle of the northern Baja peninsula of Mexico is a high mountain range. It is rugged and unique. It’s a National Park, Sierra de San Pedro Martir. One centerpiece of the park is an incredibly rugged mountain peak, Picacho Del Diablo. That mountain is an attraction for the most avid and hardened of hikers. In fact, only weeks before our visit, some American hikers had gotten lost there, but were rescued. The other centerpiece of the park is National Astronomical Observatory, the second most important observatory in all of Latin America.

Our son and daughter-in-law, Sam and Maddie, were missionary interns at Welcome Home, in Vicente Guerrero, for the summer of 2017. Their one desire for a day trip was to drive up to the national park.  We got to tag along, hardly knowing what was the draw.

We drove for hours, from the west coast of Baja, through desert, farmlands, and finally winding mountain roads, arriving at the gate to the observatory. The sign on the gate said that visitors would be escorted to the observatory at 11:00, and that would be the only visitation time for the day. We had made it in time, and had but a little while to wait.  Once we got to the observatory we were disappointed to discover that it was closed to visitors going inside, due to renovation.  But we had a super informative talk from a curator, and we enjoyed incredible views. We were told that on a clear day you could see all the way to the coastline of the Gulf of California, over fifty miles away. And there, right across a steep valley, standing tall and jagged, was Picacho Del Diablo.

A funny thing happened that morning, though, that made quite an impression on me. When we arrived at the observatory gate we were the second car to arrive.  We pulled over into a makeshift parking area for waiting. As the hour passed, more and more cars arrived, some maneuvering into the awkward, hilly, waiting area. Finally, the last cars arriving began to park in the road, jockeying for position to be first in line, or near first. As the line began to form people began running to their cars to get out on the road and get in line. We were boxed in and had to just sit and wait. As it turned out, we ended up being the last in line, some twenty or thirty cars rushing to get ahead of us.

As we began our caravan up to the top of the mountain I thought to myself how funny it would be if somehow the line were to be reversed when we arrived at the observatory. I don’t know what made me think that, but what is really funny is that it actually happened. The Park ranger leading the line of cars led the caravan to the top of the long parking lot, then turned around and led the line of cars downhill to the bottom of the parking lot, parking the cars in one long line. The first car was at the bottom of the hill, and we, who had been last in line, were parked at the top of the hill, only 50 meters from the observatory. Now it makes no difference, really, where the cars were parked, because everyone was going to get their turn going into the observatory to see the huge telescopes. Or so we thought. But that fact was not the mindset of everyone down at the gate, as they jockeyed to be first in line with their car. I guess they thought that if they were first in line with their car then they would be first to get in line to enter the observatory.

Jesus said on several occasions, “Many who are first shall be last, and many who are last shall be first.” That jockeying for position at the gate to the observatory was a great reminder to me that pride, privilege, or position mean nothing to God. He has a way of turning things right side up. His measure is mercy, justice, and humility. We do not impress him with our own self-effort and self-worth. Rather, He draws close to those who surrender to His great love and transforming grace, who serve selflessly in the strength of the Holy Spirit. God opposes the proud, but gives grace to the humble. My dear friend, you who are last in line, He will lift you up in due time (I Pet 5:6-8).