Backsliding is a 4-letter word.

During the old days at what is now known as Sugarloaf Park, a person could ski down the slope and practically into what was known as the Kodiac Lodge. That's changed now. But, there are some slopes that haven't changed. One is still called the Bear Trap. Although not for you tried and true pros, for the beginner this hill presents a considerable challenge. At least for this neophyte (beginning skier) of long ago, it did.

Beginning from the top of that hill a long time ago, it did not take too long a distance to realize that I was looking down the face of Mount Everest (if you don't mind permitting me some imaginative slack). In any case, the slope was much steeper in prehistory, circa 1969. Looking down the Bear Trap, there appeared to be miniature mountains (some of you know them to be moguls). Chicken Little looked about and there were no others skiers around, at least not at that moment. Whether I fell or whether I just decided to sit on my gluteus maximus and find my way to the bottom, I don't recall. But, somehow or another I ended up on my back, going down the Bear Trap backwards. A target shooter with the same accuracy would have been proud, but I wasn't; I never missed a mogul.

Before I got halfway down, however, other giant creatures (upright skiers look taller when one is lying on his back) spied this backsliding boy as they slalomed by. As I slid into the bottom, I knew that I would never again be caught on the Bear Trap hill. Therein began what I thought was a newly fallen upon sport of backsliding. But I worried. What if those same people who saw me said, "D'ere's da backslider I wuz tellin' yuh 'bout, Billy Joe." Needless to say, backsliding like that is all a downhill trip.

During the old days in many churches, not only in Campbellton but across our great nation, pews bent and moaned as they strained to support their abundant cargoes. That, too, has changed now. When one asks about where all the people went, few explanations seem to come to the rescue. One account according so some is that aside from death and relocations, most former members have gone backsliding, or they are backslidden. When I hear this term in this context, I see a turtle on its back, helpless, unable to rectify its walk without help. Immediately, I wonder why the great degree of ease at identifying those who are backslidden in concert with the great degree of difficulty in summoning compassion for those who have fallen away. It's one thing to be in the valley and yet another to be in that same valley with your former pals opening the floodgates in a sweet little effort to flush you out to sea.

Whether you are sliding on you back on a ski hill too or slipping away from the church pew, returning to either location is made extremely difficult when one is identified with the label of "backslider" or "backslidden" or "backsliding" each time he or she is seen. (Read Mt. 5:22 and decide whether you want to keep the term in your vocabulary.)

When compassion supercedes condemnation benches will again become pews. Pews will again become proud to take the weight off your feet while the Lord lightens the load on your heavy soul. These are the last days, the days to welcome the prodigals back into the family.