God On the Mountain

By Tara K. E. Brelinsky

My son wanted us to visit his college campus last year. Though I’d seen the expansive university grounds and the mountains which cradle them, his father and siblings hadn’t. Scheduling the five-hour road trip to Cullowhee in November presented some challenges, but, in this quiet season of Covid, before the onslaught of holidays, I determined it was time.

I couldn’t manage more than a one-night getaway, so I advised my son to make the best use of our limited time. He decided a family hike was in order.

So it was on the day after our arrival that we stepped onto the path of a three-mile journey up and down an autumn mountain. As I took my first steps, I’d figured the day was meant to be a simple exercise in family bonding and physical exertion, but God had other plans.

Will, Not Ability

I admit, right off the bat, at 49 years old I’m more soft than firm (okay, firm has never been a descriptive adjective for my body). My regular exercise plan includes moving laundry baskets and empty cups, bending over to pick up stray socks, and climbing the three sets of stairs in our house. When I planted my first step on the trail, I knew my will and not my ability would have to be the motivating factor to propel me forward.

Laying my running sneaker shod foot down, I heard the crisp crunch of the dried leaf carpet beneath. Inhaling the cool mountain air, I tugged my zipper a little higher on my chest and tucked my hands into my pockets. I put the next foot forward, leaning in against increasing resistance.

Shallow Breathing, Aching Calves

Quickly, I fell to the rear of the party-line, as the rest of my crew had far more stamina and lung capacity. Not more than a few yards into the ascent, my breaths felt shallow and labored. My calves stung from the contraction of my out-of-shape muscles. I realized I needed a strategy if there was any hope of me completing the hike.

So, I made up my mind to let go of the bigger picture and focus on the details. Rather than think about the three-mile trek before me, I’d concentrate on the next step. Quite often big picture thinking leads me to unnecessary anxiety. Whereas, focusing on small details tethers my mind to the present reality. I resolved to savor every single observation and not stew in the what if’s (what if my legs refused to carry me, what if I ran out-of-steam halfway through, what if I couldn’t keep up the pace, what if I had to admit failure).

Starve the Negative, Feed the Positive

In addition to remaining attentive to my senses, I committed to singing an internal litany of thanksgiving. Because, I not only wanted to starve my negative thoughts (the big picture what if’s), I wanted to simultaneously feed the positive.

I started with the obvious. “Thank You, Lord,” I sang in my heart, “for the ability to walk, for these shoes on my feet and sweater on my back, for the clear sky and moderate temperatures, for the company of family and the opportunity to take this time away…” I counted every big blessing and expressed my gratitude to the One Who provided. Unsurprisingly, the more praise I offered, the more my eyes, heart, and lungs expanded.

Whistling Wind and Blooming Plants

Soon, my mind was so enraptured with the beauty of creation all around me that I forgot the big picture scenarios entirely. My ears attuned to the gentle whistle of the wind and the rustling of leaves beneath the joyful chatter of my children. I felt the flush of warmth that radiated across my skin as my body worked to keep pace and sensed the subtle relaxation of my chest as my lungs adapted to the exercise. The soft green hue of plants still in bloom on the mountain floor caught my eye, as did the puzzles of bare, twisted vines in the fall canopy. Awe overwhelmed me and I praised the Creator for every inch of the magnificent landscape He’d placed me into that afternoon.

Then, my mind’s eye opened to the unseen world of inhabitants above, below, and beside me. Placing my step down on the hard soil, I conjured images of vast insect armies marching around me. My daydream led me to consider the lives of so many creatures who inhabit the same world. The birds nesting in the bare trees, the rodents burrowed out-of-sight, and countless insects climbing, flying, and marching, my mind considered the vast company through whose territory I was passing. And I thanked the All-Good God for every single one of them.

Death and Rainbows

At one point, I stopped to take a picture of a tree stump because I wanted to remember that the now-decaying tree was part of God’s Plan for this mountain. In time, the stump will disappear, but its memory will be absorbed into the mountain itself. Just as I attempted to focus my cell phone camera on the dying tree, a rainbow streamed across the image. Like Moses, I remembered the covenant between God and humanity and I thanked Him for His faithfulness.

The halfway point reached on the trail, I expected the second leg would be a downhill stroll. However, I quickly discovered the return trek required just as much endurance and strength. Thankfully, I now understood the strategy needed to complete it.

A Strategy for Hiking and Living

My steps came easier when I wasn’t counting them. The journey became light when I laid down the yoke of what-if’s and invited Christ to walk alongside me. Additionally, whenever temptations tried to push in, I drew closer to Jesus. Rather than deny the challenge or become overwhelmed by it, I whispered a prayer of surrender and entrusted my walk to His care.

God’s Plan, beginning on that mountain hike, is still unfolding. As the world spins into chaos anew, I’m understanding the value of this present moment. Big picture thinking, while important for mapping your direction and establishing your goals, can rob you of the beauty, peace, and fellowship that exists in the present moment.

The Reward

Had I focused on the length of the hike, the challenge it presented, and my insufficient capabilities, I might have chosen to sit out that day. Or having started it, I could have quit as soon as my chest burned and my muscles ached.

However, because I didn’t, I discovered a treasury of beauty and blessing. My eyes were opened to the reality of the vast world of creatures and living things who traveled along with me. Each one, like the tree stump, having its own place and purpose, making its own contribution.

A Plan for Freedom

Instead of looking at the big picture of 2021, focus on the present moment. Snuggle on the couch and read to your child. Pour your spouse a cup of coffee and inhale the aroma. Call your friend and laugh together. Smile and wave hello to your neighbor. Walk your dog and enjoy your surroundings. Sit in a spot of sunlight and feel the warmth on your face.

Look for needs and meet them. Be attentive. Love all those who cross your path, in word and action.

Count your blessings and express gratitude. Say thank you to your cashier and delivery driver, your priest and mentor, your spouse and children. And above all give thanks to the One Who supplies you with every good and perfect gift.

Adopting this strategy will not only make the course ahead easier, it’s the key to unlocking freedom, freedom no man or woman can suppress. For Christ is in the present moment. Look for Him there, you are sure to find Him.