Come Up the Mountain

The morning air was still slightly chilly as I pedaled my bike up the road towards the hill that overlooks the city. Even though my fellow African early-risers were wearing jackets and hats, I enjoyed the chill bumps on my arms, a luxury to be enjoyed before the sun gets higher in the day and turns everything scorching-hot again. The streets were more vacant than normal since I was up a little earlier, but I still smiled and waved at the the women who were going into town with goods on their heads, ready for whatever the market would bring them today. 

Right before turning off the only paved road in our town onto the red dirt bike path that goes up the hill, I noticed a woman biking up ahead of me. By the way she leaned when she pedaled and favored her right side, I knew who she was - a woman at least twice my age, but a sister in Christ who has become a dear friend. I rode up beside her, and she looked surprised to see me up so early, but happy at the same time. 

"Good morning, friend! Where are you going?" I asked her first. We were both going against the flow of traffic since most people were coming into town for the day and we were both headed out. "To see a repairman about my house," she replied. "Where are you going?" 

"Up on the hill to pray." I explained how this is our tradition the last Friday of every month. Some of my teammates and I gather in the early morning and at mid-day for a day of prayer and fasting for life and ministry. 

What she said next surprised and delighted me. 

"Can I come?" 

"Of course!" I replied, and we continued up the dirt path together. In that moment, I loved Africa because this kind of stuff just doesn't normally happen in America. People are too busy with their schedules and are stuck to them. Going up a mountain to pray? That's nice, but I have essential house repairs and a schedule to keep. But in Africa, your plan for the day is never pressing. You are free to deviate from your own program, even if it is something as important as house repairs, to spend time with people and pray. Going up a mountain to pray? That sounds way more important and meaningful than repairing my house. I want to come with you right now. 

So up we went. We watched the sun come up over the town, we listened to the birds sing and watched the sheep graze as we shared passages from the Word, sang songs that were in our hearts, and offered up prayer requests. Nothing was planned; it was actually all quite spontaneous and very encouraging. Before we knew it, an hour and a half had passed, and no one wanted to leave. 

Even though I live in Africa, I find myself living like an American sometimes, pressuring myself to keep a busy schedule because that somehow makes me feel like I'm accomplishing something, which then makes me feel good about myself. But the reality of that lifestyle is that it wears me out and doesn't satisfy my craving for true meaning, don't you agree? What actually satisfies my soul is climbing a quiet mountain in the early morning, praying over the things that matter, and inviting other people to experience God with me. 

My friend taught me something that morning. Always be willing to detour from today's schedule, especially if it means putting the Lord and our relationships above everything else. Life is not about productivity, but presence.