Standing upon the crest of the hill overlooking what one would suspect, the valley below, shrouded in the mist, tops of towering pines quietly appear. The elevation is apparent, but the feeling of the exhilaration of the moment, the cool, nearly invisible moisture embraces the exposed flesh, becomes one with the atmospheric ambiance – uniting body and soul. The light from above is all but muted, so great the fog that covers the mountain top. The only cusp of truth attesting to reality are your feet firmly planted upon the well-worn path upon which you trod.
Silently leaning on the walking stick, the old friend that has carried you across many a roaring stream, balanced your body from falling upon treacherous rock-laden trails, supports you comfortably while you absorb the scene. In that tranquility of creation, there comes a still, small voice – not audible, but stepping into your soul like the tender approach of the mist before you. You listen, and from one Spirit to the other, words form from the void, from whence they were never meant to be lost. In reverence to the voice, your head becomes heavy and bows beneath the divine weight. Eyes closed, the wind rushes past your ears as the sound of the raging torrent in the creek below you, somewhere amongst the shrouded mystery, coalesces with the voices of the forest below. Like a precious petal from the lovely rose, the words land upon your spirit, a kiss of the heavenly caress upon your cheek. Words spoken but never uttered from mortal lips – your heart pauses as their meaning, like the granite upon which you stand, reaches deep into your being, touching the hidden recesses of your consciousness.
“And he said, “Go out and stand on the mount before the Lord.” And behold, the Lord passed by, and a great and strong wind tore the mountains and broke in pieces the rocks before the Lord, but the Lord was not in the wind. And after the wind an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake. 12 And after the earthquake a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire. And after the fire the sound of a low whisper.”[1]
A sign from above or not, a hawk cries from the distance, its voice echoing off unseen walls. You raise your head just in time to see the veil of vapor slowly part as the glow of the morning sunrise sets the stage for the coming glory. There before you, the image of a distant snow-covered mountain peak, glowing radiant butter-flavored warmth, begins to emerge, reverently entering stage left, the parting of the curtain only for one, you, the beloved. Something deep inside begins to cast a feeling of joy and remorse as one, finding the revelation too much for mere mortal bindings. You fall to your knees, unaware of the strength that seems to have suddenly left your body.
There is but one, the Father above, that can cause such jubilation and subjugation. To withstand His celestial purpose, love, and intent for our lives is all but fruitless. For alone, we are nothing but the dust upon which we stand. To rebel against those divine intentions is an act of utter foolishness. Yet, some do. “There is in truth, no mid way between absolute harmony with the Father and condition of slaves – submissive or rebellious. If the latter, their very rebellion is by the strength of the Father in them.”[2]
Today, let us not seek to walk in our self-absorbed bondage to the world but rather seek to follow the will of Him from whom we have been created. George MacDonald writes, “For nothing can come so close as that which creates; the nearest, strongest, dearest relation possible is between creator and created.”
Seek Him, walk with him, and let your day become the fullest possible. Thanks be to God.
[1] 1 Kings 19:11-12 KJV
[2] George Macdonald, Unspoken Sermons, pg. 238
