Ah, Teneriffe!
Retreating Mountain!
Purples of Ages – pause for you –
Sunset – reviews her Sapphire Regiment –
Day – drops you her Red Adieu!
Still – Clad in your Mail of ices –
Thigh of Granite – and thew – of Steel –
Headless – alike – of pomp – or parting
Ah, Teneriffe!
I’m kneeling – still –
Emily Dickinson
So many mountains in scripture, and so many mountain-encounters with the One who made the world!
Moses on the mountain, face to face with God, receiving the Law and being illumined by the Light to the point that he had to veil his face when he returned to the people below.
Elijah, on the run and out of faith, listening to the silence of the One who pursued him in love and spoke strength to him in the mountain cave.
Jesus, teaching the multitude through the Sermon on the Mount.
Jesus, giving Peter and James and John a glimpse of Heaven on the Mount of Transfiguration.
Jesus, seeking solitude with the Father as He “went often to the mountain to pray.”
Jesus, extolling the power of real trust in God: “You will say to this mountain, ‘be lifted up and fall into the sea,’ it will be done.”
Jesus, anguished at the foot of the Mount of Olives the night before He mounted Golgotha and His cross.
My Mountain Memories
Many mountain-moments in my own life and faith walk, too.
Sitting on a rock atop Pike’s Peak outside of Colorado Springs, and looking over the vastness of the Rocky Mountains before me… peak after peak, as far as I could see… extraordinary, majestic, evidence of a mighty God.
Then glancing at the earth beside me and realizing there were tiny, tiny alpine flowers in bloom right there. Exquisite petals paper thin and perfect; delicate filaments of foliage so small I had to squint to see them at all.
Evidence of a God whose eye sees everything – whose Creator-heart orders everything – whose delight in beauty cannot be contained either in monumentality or in smallness.
God, who made the Universe and the Rocky Mountains; God, who made those teensy, fragile flowers… and me.
Reckless teenager with my best friend, watching a lightning storm from above the lightning on a mountainside, looking down on the jagged flashes of light.
Not sure yet if I believed in God, but dazzled by the thunderous evidence of Something bigger, Something other.
Worshiping at our church-home-away-from-home in Breckenridge, where summer services are outside and the mountain peaks are the backdrop for praises that cannot help but be bathed in appropriate awe and humility. (Our hosts for our mountain time this summer, beloved buddies David and Paulette, are the best of the many good gifts given us by God through that church in the mountains.)
Tough Talk from Mountains
Mountains are irrefutable evidence of my own mortality – incontrovertible proof that the world has existed for eons before I arrived, and the world will exist for eons after I depart.
Mountains are also dynamic humility-cultivators: my opinions, accomplishments, griefs, failures, even my life itself makes no difference whatsoever to a mountain. Regardless of my attitude (or my presence), a mountain exemplifies unconcern and long-term endurance.
Surprisingly, the longevity aspect of mountains catalyzes an uncomfortable insight for us humans: for all the apparent permanence of a mountain, it will not last forever.
The tallest peaks are the youngest peaks; what appear to be gentle hills are the last stages of ancient mountains as they crumble away.
By contrast, the human soul is designed for eternity. Eternity! Long after the Rockies are worn away to plains under the feet of generations in the distant future, my soul will still be “young” by heavenly standards. Astonishing. Sobering.
Truths to take away from mountain time
- It takes work to see a spectacular view.
You can’t roll out of bed and be at the summit. Effort is involved – even if you drive.
But the view itself is a gift. Effort does not procure the view; effort only enables enjoyment of the view.
Grace is the author and the substance of all gifts… but we get to choose whether (or not) we put forth the effort to receive even Grace.
- The highest places are not places of abundant growth.
“Above the tree line” means mostly barren. Valleys, those low spots between mountains, are where the thickest vegetation is concentrated.
In the same way, “mountaintop moments” in life are spectacular and to be celebrated… but they cannot be where we live most days. The thin air will choke us; the lofty height will give us delusions of grandeur. We need to expect to grow in the valleys – and we need to welcome valleys as times of growth.
Leaving the mountains
When you live in North Texas and get away to Colorado, home-coming is inevitably a descent… and an opportunity to live fully into the truths of summits vs. valleys.
I pray for the memories of views from summits to keep us mindful of the God who made both mountaintops and valleys as gifts.
And I pray for the wisdom to keep my eyes on the Maker.
