Mountaintop Moment

I wish I could freeze in this moment. I close my eyes and try to breathe it all in - the cold, dry mountain wind chilling the left side of my face, my breath hot in the scarf wrapped around my neck and mouth, the silence that is so soft I think I can hear snowflakes landing in the powder. 

But I can’t keep my eyes closed for very long, for when I open them, all my other senses stand back so that my eyes get full center stage spotlight. I stand on the brink of a great expanse, and beyond me for miles and miles in layers upon layers are snow covered mountain peaks, jagged and terrifying and stunningly beautiful. Somehow, I’m standing on one of them, too, but my feet are too small and my eyes too narrow to grasp the perspective of it all. In this moment, I can’t wrap my mind around the greatness, and I remember what awe feels like. 

That’s when I wish I could freeze this moment. When I feel so small and I know God is so big. When my breath is taken away. When my doubts are blown away with the wind. And when his love for me and mine for him settle down like layers upon layers of fresh snow. 

I totally forget about my boots. You know, the new ski boots that have been rubbing my feet in all the wrong places and giving me immense pain and constant soreness no matter which way I turn or position myself. I’ve tried everything to stop the pain, but it’s just been impossible to fix or forget about. Until I am still. And I look up. When previously I couldn’t stop thinking about how every movement hurt, now I forget about it in an instant. It actually doesn’t make the pain go away, it just makes it insignificant in the grandeur of the glory. Light and momentary troubles that are achieving a far greater glory. 

My focus usually falls on the sharp, staggered peaks, but this time, my thoughts are drawn to the base of the mountains and I ponder their foundations. You can be standing on the foundation of a mountain and not even realize it. Here I am standing on the edge of one, and I can’t fathom it. When you hike a mountain of this size, where does it’s base really start? Who can draw the line? Who can move it’s foundation? I ponder Psalm 119:90-91 that tells of how God founded the earth, how his faithfulness goes on from generation to generation, and how all things exist and remain because of his Word. 

I do a full 360 degree turn, a feeble attempt to soak in the majesty of the panoramic view. Psalm 125 says that God surrounds his people like the mountains surround Jerusalem. I’ve never been to Jerusalem, but I know what it’s like to be surrounded by mountains, and if God is really like that, then I must never fear again. 

This same psalm that compares God to mountains compares us to mountains in the next breath. “Those who trust in the Lord are like mount Zion, which can never be shaken.” As unshakable as mountains. My knees get weak thinking about the strength and power that is contained within and displayed throughout the mountains, and the characteristic that amazes me most is their immovability. I want to be like that, and the Bible teaches me how. Trust him. 

I take a deep breath, point my skis downhill, and rejoin my family waiting for me at the bottom. But my heart does not leave that mountaintop. My heart took a 3D snapshot. I froze there. And when I struggle or doubt, I’m going to close my eyes and go back there where the wind blows my worries away, where my knees grow weak in the presence of his undoubtable and personal power, and where his love settles down like layers of fresh snow.