As we stood in the World Trade Center Tower 2, faces against The Windows On The World, my dad was experiencing relief from his SINS. Yes, I have no problem talking about it publicly. His Sir Isaac Newton Syndrome. That delightfully queasy feeling you get when you find yourself at a higher altitude than God ever intended, knowing you’re one step away from proving Sir Isaac Newton’s law of gravity correct. My Dad was feeling relief from his SINS because there were windows between him and the world 106 stories below.
I however, being a dependant height junkie, doomed to live in the Rockies one day, saw the same windows as a barrier. For my SINS were not the SINS of my Father. My SINS always called me higher, closer to the edge. As a kid, I would frequently hang out on the roof of our house. I loved the view, the isolation. The height. Never did understand why it bothered my parents so much. Something about the scientific equation of insurance premiums divided by gravity.
My father had unwillingly accompanied me to the observation level for my 18th birthday. Our particular SINS were finding us out.
My dad might have been gravity-relieved, but I was I highly rim disgruntled. I didn’t come this far to stand safely behind a glass wall. I wanted to plant my posture on the second highest roof in the world, and shake my fist towards the Sears Tower, the recent usurper of The Tallest title. I could sense the lofty ledge, mocking me from just a few stories above my scalp. To this day I hate mocking lofty ledges.
As Dad and I skulked back to the down-elevators of defeat, I spotted it: the escalator to the roof! My father and I instantly traded moods and ‘tudes. He said he wouldn’t go up; I said I was going up without him. He sighed. He got on the escalator.
The ledge to the world fed my altitude addiction like no shingled roof before. 1,368 feet of Isaac Newton bliss. It was Newtontastic. Isaacredible. Sirsational. Come on, if I put chocolate on the ledge, most of you would join me there. And if you eat enough chocolate at that altitude, you might feel like you’re in the Presence of God. For a few minutes anyway.  Now this was a roof! And here I was again on top, with one of my parents still not happy about it. Though I don’t think Dad was worried so much about me this time.
Something inside of me told me to climb the fence. To jump. Have you ever heard that voice? Call me before you obey it. Fortunately I’ve learned not to listen to everything my inner voice tells me to do. The fruit of the Spirit is inner-self control.
On the way down the victory lift, my dad thanked me for making him go to the top. Years later, after a horrific September 11 that no American will forget, my Dad would thank me again.
But we were talking about the Tower of Babel. Or someone somewhere was. The first world-famous skyscraper. Built somewhere in the Middle East, probably in modern day Iraq.
The Babel Tower architects weren’t just aiming for a good tourist attraction or altitude rush. They were trying to outsmart God. Trying to build a ziggurat that would save them from a second Great Flood. Where they could shake their fists at Noah from the observation deck.
And you know what? They’re sins found them out. Long before Sir Isaac pondered a gravity-induced apple.
Then Dubai put up Babel-region Tower II. A scary spire of 2,700 feet. Be still my beating barometer.
But that was Newton as compared to what the Saudi’s now have planned.
A one kilometer mega minaret, the Jeddah Kingdom Tower is 3,280 feet of lightning inviting fun. To give you some acrophobia perspective, if you put both World Trade Center Twin Towers on top of each other, you would still come up over 300 feet short! Now there’s a room with a view. If you can breathe enough up there to stand.
How many pounds of chocolate will I need to put in my backpack to get you to meet me up there? “Look, Ma, I can see the Empire State Building from here!” “Yes, Isaac, I see, just back away from the ledge”. The Babel Tower 1 men would be so jealous.
Even though I’d love to be one of the first ones to look over the ledge, I’ve learned no matter how high I climb, I’m no closer to the Lord. How much closer can you get than inside of us, where the Spirit of God dwells in the born again believer? I’m closer to Jesus when I’m down on my knees, than when I alight on the ledge of the highest man made observation obelisk.
Our sins will find us all out eventually. Maybe it’s time we backed away from the ledges and climbed to the Heights on our knees. Cause if we keep playing it near the edge, listening to that idiot inner voice, we might see God sooner than planned. Let’s pray together, let the Highest fill our insides. Then we can celebrate what we’ve built with some chocolate afterwards.

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So, what’s the highest building you’ve been to the top of? Did you stand at the edge, looking down? Did you make it to the Twin Towers before 9-11? Would you go with me to the top of the Saudi Arabia Babelsphere? Or are you content standing behind life’s observation deck, safe from all insurance companies? I’d like to hear about it! Send me a note, and your ticket to the top if you’re not going to use it. And let me know if you want me to pray with you. If you’re ready to meet the Maker of Gravity. Sir Isaac is hanging out with Him, learning some relative things.