The Mountain

Feb 8, 2024 | Teasing Out the Truth | 6 comments

      The Mountain

​​As I trek through this life with You, Jesus, it feels like we are climbing a steep mountain.  We progress up the side, handhold after handhold, scaling the face of this seemingly endless cliff.  My strength is nearly gone and the sun is fading.  But we find a cleft in the rock and gratefully ease ourselves into it for the night.  What a relief!  We have built a fire and made a cozy bed.  The winds continue to whip and blow, but we are protected, safe and content.  As we settle in, I savor the progress.  I congratulate myself on how far I’ve come.  Look at me — I’m quite the mountaineer!

 
But then, I wonder. What’s up ahead?  Despite Your gentle caution, I am drawn back to the mouth of this cave.  I want to look at how much I have left. I probably shouldn’t. I know this. The progress of today is enough, and whatever  tomorrow holds, I can’t do anything about it right now, anyway. I would do better to return to the warmth and safety of Your arms, the stillness of the now. But I am curious.
 
I ignore Your warnings and peer up the mountain. How close are we to the top? Maybe we’re almost there, I speculate!
 
Whoa. I am dazzled and overwhelmed by the enormity of the remaining journey. I guess I haven’t come as far as I thought! Geez! I can’t even see the top!  Panicking at how far I have yet to go, I feel a sudden urge to nail down the path ahead.  Maybe if I make a plan I can get on top of this dizzying moment of overwhelm.  I feverishly begin plotting. I crane my neck around, straining in the failing light to map out the way forward. A grid, a checklist, a graph.
 
But the more I strategize and categorize, the more confusing it becomes.  I just don’t have all of the information. I cannot possibly see each of the twists and turns we will need to make.  I can’t.  I don’t know the road ahead. I feel miserably inadequate.
 
Now I’ve wasted precious rest time with my frenzied machinations and furthermore I’ve worked myself into a state. With no other choice, I raggedly turn to re-enter the cave, choking on feelings of smallness and shame. I am nothing. I am a fool. I am nowhere, I mourn.
 
I lie down by the fire and wallow in my misery. As the storm inside gradually subsides, I become aware, once again, that You are with me. You quietly remind me that
 
I am not where I someday will be, but I am also not where I once was.
 
You whisper that our progress for today is simultaneously small and great. It is both stunning and humble. And it is enough. I was enough for You at the beginning of this journey and I am enough for You now. Because You are not with me because I am enough. You journey with me because You are enough. And that is enough for tonight.  I drift to sleep, warm by the fire and safe in Your arms.
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