#381. Accountability

Accountability is one of our favorite words. It’s not as big as “postmodern” or “fellowship” or “relevant,” but it’s definitely in the top ten as far as most popular Christian words.

And I’m not that great at it. I lived a double (if not triple) life for so long that it’s hard for me to be honest. I’m getting better at it, but all too often, my knee jerk reaction is to lie or cover up or to swell my chest with empty words to make it look like I’m doing better than I really am. I wrestle with that classic lie that “if you really knew me, if you really knew who I was, you wouldn’t like me.” And in order to keep that lie alive, I often catch myself establishing pseudo accountability plans, a danger that I first wrote about a few months ago after reading a business book by Michael Useem.

It’s called “The Go Point,” and it contains a story about the 1994 South Canyon fire in Colorado. In the fire, through a series of poor decisions, 12 highly-trained firefighters died. The chapter I read chronicles the impact of each decision but the one I want to mention today is the escape route plan.

The leader of the brigade decided that the safe spot, the area of land the firefighters would retreat to if overtaken by the blaze, was going to be on top of a ridge. It was not a long way away and at the time seemed like a fairly easy location to get to. But looking back, knowing that the firefighters would face a wall of flame reaching estimates of 300 feet, it is difficult not to call the escape route into question.

The mistake the leader made was that the escape route was uphill. After battling fire for hours, with pounds of wet, hot gear on, the firefighters were not prepared for a desperate uphill scramble through the Colorado forest. When the call came, and all hope was lost, all 12 began to sprint up the small hill.

It was too steep though, and as the firefighters ran at 3 feet per second, the fire climbed at 9 feet per second. At 4:16 it caught them, killing all 12, less than 100 yards away from safety.

I think we all need escape routes. I think we need plans on how to handle and flee from the things that tempt us or push us off course. Our temptations may not be as obvious as a wall of solid flame, but the burn they carry can be extremely dangerous. A husband that gets too emotionally connected to his young secretary. A cash-strapped business that makes some grey decisions about which money to report to the IRS. A student that doesn’t want to be the only one in the car that isn’t high.

Every day we face our own forest fires. The question becomes, are your escape routes uphill or downhill? That is, in the midst of disaster, will they be easy to use or difficult?

If your accountability partner never answers their phone or returns messages, that’s an uphill escape route. If your accountability partner is always available via his cell phone and regularly returns messages, that’s a downhill escape route.

If your plan for facing difficult times is to “white knuckle it” and “try harder,” that’s an uphill escape route. If your plan for facing difficult times is to enlist other people you trust to carry the burden with you, that’s a downhill escape route.

If your plan for keeping your heart pure online is to just “not click on questionable material,” that’s an uphill escape route. If your web activity gets automatically emailed to your accountability partner, that’s a downhill escape route.

We could play this game all day, but it’s a pretty simple idea. And it’s one I honestly fail at regularly. As I edited this post I was convicted with thoughts like “oh yeah, that’s an uphill escape route. I need to work on that area of my life.” I think what happens is that after a few weeks of dealing with issues, I get cocky and try to take things back from God. I tell Him, “I got this one God. I can take it from here.” And then in a matter of moments, I’m right back to an uphill escape route and a wall of temptation I know I can’t outrun on my own.

Maybe you already have a life jam-packed, with healthy, God-centered downhill escape routes. Maybe you’re different than me. But if you’re not, I offer you the same questions I’m wrestling with right now:

What do your escape routes look like? Are they downhill or uphill?