Saturday, January 28, 2012
Moving Mountains Is A Tricky Business
Moving mountains is quite tricky really. So often I hear sermons about how God can move our mountains. Faith of a mustard seed and all. I believe that with God I can move mountains. And yet, here they stand before me again. Daunting peaks and valleys, frozen ice patches splattered along the ridges.
They seem so magnificent and their beauty scares me. How can such a thing move, God? I ask. And yet, I know it must. I know it doesn't belong here. It blocks me in and hides from me the things beyond it's peak. Mountains are situations , experiences, and views of ourselves that block us. They trap us. They stop us. These past few days I have wondered why I don't say to my mountains "Move!". As I have thought about it, I identified three common reasons why I make friends with my mountains instead of moving them.
1. Having a mountain is a good excuse. It is a good excuse to stop, a good excuse for why I can't or shouldn't. What better reason than to say, "Well, I guess I am off the hook. There is a mountain in my way". Such an obstacle is a good reason to pitch a tent at the foot of this giant. I could make a nice life here at base camp. Sure, base camp is more a place of survival rather than living. Soon I might forget how nice heat is or electricity. Or forget about indoor plumbing. I might start to believe that I was made for nomadic camping instead of being planted in the land God has for me. When I get weary of pressing on, excuses look good. I like the excuses my mountain offers me. You guys go ahead. I have a mountain. I'll meet you on the other side...maybe.
2. Often I don't move my mountains because I am freaked out what might be on the other side. Most likely it is better than where I am now, but it still scares me. Yes, there could be a flash flood. Yes, the winters are harsh and long on in the shadow of the mountain. Yes, I am always blocked unable to move, explore and grow. Sadly, I have learned to live like this. And knowing what to expect brings some comfort. Can I really thrive on the other side of the mountain?
3. This realization knocked the wind out of me. I realized that sometimes I don't move my mountains because I need them. I get resources from the mountain. I rely on it for my food, my water and my shelter. In a way it replaces God meeting my needs. Why trust Him for water when I can just go to this little muddy creek for water? The mountain provides me with some identity as well.
Our mountains mark us. Maybe you are the girl with the eating disorder. Or the man who never had a father. Financial crisis is your go-to. No matter who says they love you, you will choose to always be the one who was rejected. We cling to our mountains because they have been feeding us for years.
Moving mountains isn't easy. In fact, I don't really know how it works, but I do know that we are called to do it. We look at God, take Him at His word, pray like bananas and start walking. Maybe when we approach it, the mountain will disappear. Perhaps the image of the mountain will remain and we will find that God gives us supernatural strength to walk straight through it's rock core.
There isn't a formula, and I don't know exactly what God is going to do to move your mountains. But I know He will. I know He promised. We aren't made to live in the shadow of daunting, haunting mountains.
We were meant to live free. We were created to live without inhibition. We are destined to move mountains.
Posted by Elizabeth Griffin at 11:15 AM