The Mountain

I had a dream about the mountain last night.

 

Everyone saw the cloud that had crashed into the summit like a white train wreck. It hovered there, mysterious and beautifully fearful. I didn't feel fear when I looked at it, at least not the kind of fear that paralyzes your breath and reminds you that you're nothing. It was the kind of fear that made you feel very small indeed, but as if that meant something, to be small.

 

They were saying all around me, "Don't go up there, you'll surely die from the storm," and, "It's unpredictable and you don't know what you'll encounter up there." "It's dangerous."

 

But I knew, compellingly and assuredly, that I had to go.

 

North and Middle Sisters (Faith and Hope) from the Summit

 

 

I thought, as I drove up the pass, that if I hadn't met the man Jesus and become so compelled by Him that I gave Him all my dreams, I would have probably ended up spending a majority of my life on a mountain. It was something with which I could become obsessed with little to no effort. It made me feel alive.

 

The last 1500 feet of the climb, from the false summit was as steep as you could get without having to technical climb. It was all tallis, and while the dog sprang up the incline with ease, I was stopping every ten sliding steps and trying to get some oxygen into my body. I looked up at the summit, her massive form red and I felt my own weakness speak against me. "You don't have enough strength." But I had waited too long to stop this close to conquering her. This wasn't just a climb to test my strength of body or will... this was hand-to-hand combat with my fear.

 

Broken Top from the Summit

 

 

I knew now that all my longing for the mountains, all my reaching for wildness and freedom that I found in the high places, they were just shadows of the longing that I had for Him. And really, I could spend all my life, all my passion and energy trying to conquer the mighty ones of the earth, to try and get a little bit closer to the heavens, to really feel something in my chest other than the numbness that the world is so familiar with. But I knew now, somehow, that if I pursued my love of the wild, if I gave myself to pursuing the beauty of the earth and of my God manifested in His creation, then in the end I would come up short. I would have lost it all, but for nothing.

 

Mt Bachelor from the False Summit

 

Descending the Mountain (and very tired)

 

 

Really, what I have always been searching for is Him. To seek Him, to give Him my dreams that I hold in my heart, to seek not beauty but the Source of it, that had become everything. Of course I still love the mountains. I love them deeply. But they are now the lower forms of beauty, the higher forms those which can only be touched with an experience of the heart.

 

When my eyes are opened and I am like a blind man seeing men like trees for the first time, I can see that the thing I was searching for in the dark was actually Light. I can see that He becomes everything, higher and wider of a love than I ever knew existed before.

 

Teardrop Lake (The highest lake in Oregon).

 

 

It's true I have longing, dreams, things I want to do while I'm on the earth. I want to make my mark. I want to live breathlessly and without regret. Our dreams aren't worthless. They all cost us something. We spend endless hours thinking about them, pouring over them, loving them, speaking kind words to them.

 

Sometimes, they are the most precious things we dreamers have.

 

But let it cost me something to lay my life at His feet. Let my jar of perfume break over His feet and let the extravagance of my dreams fill the room, not cheap trinkets that I didn't want anyway. Let my sacrifice be left on Him as a fragrance, a reminder of a life broken and poured out, a sacrifice that cost me something.

 

This month I finally climbed my mountain. It's funny, really, because I feel as if it's the start of a time of many more mountains being conquered... not all of them with snow and a 4,600 foot incline.

 

"This is the season," I thought as I stepped onto the crater of the summit, "for courage."

 

At the summit

 

 

 

 

 

Healing

Sometimes life doesn't feel like an exciting adventure. Sometimes it just feels like a bloody battle that you'll be lucky to survive with all your limbs intact.

Sometimes family members aren't perfect. Sometimes they change and aren't able to function like they used to. Sometimes depression and addiction and other not-perfect things show up and we can't ignore them. Sometimes all your fancy spirituality and knowledge about God's love turns into one word: stay.

I knew depression has had some say in my family in the past, but when it struck my father and then tried to wrap it's sticky claws around me, I found my fight and I didn't relent until victory came. I still haven't. There's no other option.

When I leave for work in the wee hours of the morning, I can see them through a crack in their bedroom door. He used to get up before me, in the old days. Now he sleeps longer and longer. I do care, you know. I care too much. Is that allowed? I don't know. Momma says someday that when I have babies, I'll find a new kind of strength. I hope so.

Something happened to me two weeks ago. I don't know what it was, but I felt the heaviness of an orphan lift off my shoulders and a new time come upon me...almost as if I couldn't have helped but step into it.

It's as if the lens flipped and I was staring at everything I once hated as disappointing and bitter as beautiful. I saw the people I once feared as my destiny. I went for a walk yesterday and I could see the sun, like they way you see something and see it with all your senses. I smelled the color on the wheat and I tasted the air that was filled with tangy sweetness. I saw everything, but no fear entered my chest. I looked for signs of my old friend Fear, but all I saw were roses. They tinted the lenses of my eyes so that they saw everything new, and my mind thought only good thoughts, ones that made me feel as if life wasn't only a bloody battle to be fought, but a slow dance to be savored, a rich fullness that demanded to be tasted.

Worship School is finally finished and I have at last returned home from Redding. To be honest, I'm not sure where to start.  How to explain a whole year's worth of pain, years worth of pain erased from my heart as I look into the face of the One who truly knows and loves me. So much torment that has bruised and battered my heart left when God somehow took my old heart and replaced it completely with a new heart. All the things that have been running circles in my mind, things that made me sure I was crippled enough to never walk properly again, they all melted away as I lay in front of the King.

And I'll say it. I'm a believer in healing.

And how could I not? I have seen it. I have beheld things that don't make sense, that didn't make sense to me until they manifested themselves right in front I'd my face. I have seen my prayers happen. I have seen the impossible. I have seen my own heart made new again by the love of my God, who has never left me, not once, not even in the middle of my deepest torment when I couldn't see or feel Him.

So...

Life sometimes feels like a bloody battle. It sometimes feels like there's no way out. But I have seen the eyes of the One who loves me. I have heard His call in my heart. And I know that there is healing for all who are sick. I know that the despair that comes isn't meant to last. I know that He is for me. And I know that He came for me and delivered me from all my enemies.

And whatever your enemy may be, He will do the same for you.

Take courage, dear heart.