The Peak of Inspiration

I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills, from whence cometh my help.  Psalm 121:1

“The mountains are calling, and I must go.”  John Muir

I sense a universal desire among humankind to visit the mountains. The need for clear and cool air, and to have the quiet overcome the noise.  To stand and look up at something that makes us feel small.  To be reminded that we are a tiny part of something grand, and to be humbled by the fact that we are no match for the thing in front of us.  But to also know that, when treated with reverence, these hills hold the refreshment and inspiration that the sun and wind of the plains have long drained out of us.

And I wonder what it is about those cliffs and wind blown ridges that draws us to them.  Why are we fascinated and drawn to something that is guaranteed to test our strength?  Why are we so willing to subject ourselves to an environment that has taken the lives of untold thousands?  Why do we spend millions of dollars, disrupt carefully planned schedules, travel hundreds of miles, to acquire a few precious moments of mountain time?

Is there something deeper, below the surface, something that doesn’t necessarily have a name, that is pulling us up there?  Some kind of magnetic force, invisible and silent, but undeniably effective, that builds and accumulates until we have no choice but to satisfy that need. Did John Muir have it right?  Is it the mountains that speak our name?  Or is it something in the mountains?  Some quality there that is absolutely vital to sustaining a heartbeat, and something that cannot be found or acquired anywhere else. 

Maybe we don’t always choose to go there.  I know there are times when the mountains simply get in the way of where you are and where you need to be.  But either way, whether by choice or necessity, those mountains hold a key to our survival. 

Like it or not, accept it or not, we are a broken people.  Our hearts are wicked and deceitful.  Our thoughts take us places we shouldn’t go.  The daily life of the plains, a place where there are no streams, no waterfalls, no reservoirs of refreshment, start to take a toll.  Our canteen runs out.  The sun cracks our lips and burns our skin. 

Our souls call out.  It’s a cry with only one desire.  A plea for relief.  And that call is answered.  We hear a voice from the hills.  And so we turn toward that voice and take a step. 

God is in the mountains.  He’s in the Rockies and the Appalachians.  He’s in the Andes and the Himalayas.  That’s where he lives.  It’s not His only home.  But He is there.  And He is absolutely in the mountains facing your heart right now.  And he wants you to join Him.  He knows that you will find the missing piece, the therapy that you so desperately need.  He wants to meet you at a spot there, hidden behind the cliffs and trees.  He wants to fill the empty place, to make the void disappear.  It’s a bit of a mystery, but I know this, He has a gift for us, but we must be in the mountains to receive it. 

I don’t know who you are, where you live, or even what year you are reading this.  But I do know that you are human, and that you have a soul that is in a war between good and bad, a heart that feels pain and wants to love, and a mind that is made to process what your senses gather.  And if you haven’t already, you will.  You will face a mountain.  I don’t know what it will look like.  I don’t know if you will choose it or it will choose you.  And I don’t know if it looks like fun or if it frightens you.

Inviting or not, you need that mountain.  You need it to remind you that it’s ok to be humble.  You need it to remind you that prayer is a gift.  To remind you that others love you.  And that we are here to help each other.  You need it to remind you that faith starts small, but that it can grow.  And you need it to help you learn that, big as it is, fearful as the dangers hidden inside its canyons may be, there is something, or rather Someone, bigger.  Bigger than any mountain. 

He has a gift for you.  In the mountains.  Go meet Him there.