In December 2001 our family built a memory together. After careful planning, preparation, and saving, we climbed together the highest mountain on the continent of Africa, Kilimanjaro. What a trip is was. On the final ascent, Bonnie had to turn back two hours into the night. Due to a stomach ulcer my effort to summit ended just one hour short of the peak. Jeremy and Kyndal completed the climb.Since that day it has been one of my life’s goals to summit Kilimanjaro. Last week presented the opportunity. Accepting the invitation to speak at the 10 year Anniversary celebration of the Bible Baptist Church in Moshi, located at the base of the mountain, I planned to begin the climb on Monday. With a minimum of acclimatization, the climb could be made in 5 days, allowing me to come off the mountain on Friday evening, drive 7 hours back to Dar es Salaam on Saturday, and be in place for ministry on Sunday. To say the plan was “ambitious” would be generous. The word “stupid” now comes to mind.
The weather was perfect for the climb and the mountain was breathtaking. I felt great until the evening of the 3rd day, when the 15,520 ft. elevation of Kibo camp began to get to me. 
I witnessed three climbers being carried off the mountain on stretchers suffering from edema. Nausea, severe headaches, dizziness, and loss of appetite had me questioning my ability to make the final ascent beginning at 11:30 p.m.
After 6 hours my guide and I reached Gilman’s Point (18,650 ft.). From there we inched our way around the crater rim, made treacherous by new snowfall on glacier ice. At 6:45 a.m. we reached the summit, Uhuru Peak (19,340 ft.), the highest point on the African continent.The trek down the mountain was no fun. My legs locked up many times and left me incapacitated. At one point two boulders came bounding down the scree, nearly killing one climber who lunged out of the way, injuring his ribs. But, the exhilaration of reaching the summit was all the motivation needed for the two-day descent. It was a long drive back to Dar es Salaam on Saturday, with stops along the way to carefully stretch ailing leg muscles and nurse a sour stomach.
In 2001 we dedicated our family climb to my father, dying of cancer. This climb was dedicated to my children, Jeremy and Kyndal, and new addition to our family, Charissa. I’m proud of you guys, and your heart to serve God with your lives. Never quit and always aspire to new heights, as God directs your path!P.S. While I highly recommend building family memories, I honestly cannot recommend mountain climbing. This was undoubtedly the most challenging and physically painful challenges of my life.... and the last of my mountain climbing endeavors!
