Monday, January 23, 2012

Mountain of Fear, pt. 2

Inside I heard the mockery.

Father knew you couldn’t do it. You can’t even make it without training wheels. You’re sure to get lost up that mountain. Better to just turn around.

HopeBury your thoughts into me, the voice of my Father sweetened the air.
Hope in me.

I am the one who knows you best. I am near. I am your light. I am your stronghold. I am rock. I am your strength. I am your joy. I am your shield. I am your salvation. I am your peace.
“Do not give way to fear!” (1 Peter 3:6)

The wave of wind blew over the grassland, setting my eyes to follow its trail. Over right and then up to break my gaze.

With questions on the horizon, I started to peddle again. There was nothing else to do. The exercise felt unusual, muscles stiff from being still. The trail leading straight into the Mountain of Fear. Wheels turned creating my rhythm.

The loneliness didn’t bother me at first. It seemed to have its reason for some time. I kept the pace remembered the words of my Father. They called me back into my longing for Him. One thing I do ask of the Father, and this will I seek after, that I would dwell with him in his house all the days of my life, to gaze upon his beauty and inquire of him.

The trail being squeezed small, larger rocks taking up the edges. A boulder twice my size in front of my path, I slowed. Picking up Ol’ Trusty, I balanced with a hand on the boulder and walked around it.

As I looked ahead I saw the terrain worsening as it neared the mountain, I have to leave the bike behind and take the trail on foot.

Closer to the mountain the light changed, casting deep shadows. It tricked my eyes and I tipped, thinking I had better footing. The trail ended.

Or changed directions, it went up. Very directly.
It ran right into a wall of rock. The rock skirted the edge of the mountain, 20 feet in height. I would have to climb.

Taking a look at the wall figuring the puzzle, I thought I could at least try. Right leg, left arm and the climb began. Yellow-brown rock had tilted slabs, made for large ledges and sure footing. Left arm up, right foot searching, slip. Jolted, I hung with my weak left arm.

But it clung to a stronghold. Father had given me one. The type that curves with your hand, lots of room for fingers. I screamed out to him and my feet found their help. I pulled, arms burning. Two steps, three, and crawled over the top less than gracefully.

My body was shaking with new muscle growth and uneasiness to heights, looking down at the recent plight, I experienced joy. Thank you.

With the rest complete with water and nourishment, I was eager to continue, motivated by the need to complete. I stood and replaced the pack. My legs moved slow and steady as the incline grew, wrapping itself around the base of the mountain. Spotted clefts had my mind thinking about making camp. The sun still a few hours away from setting, I wanted the rest and time to prepare for a cold evening.

My mind wandered as I set to the tasks.
The hope was still fresh, like a newly planted seed. The upturned soil wrenched my soul and only tears would come-if only soul had its own way of weeping. It longed for the companion. If only you were right here. I feel only alone.

She came unnoticed. Amber waves in her hair and a peaceful gaze, pointing forward. Her voice, a song: “Wait for the Father, be strong and let your heart take courage. Wait for him.” Only later did I come to know her name, Faith. She left so quick, I wasn’t sure she had been there at all. But I had felt the change, the renewed feeling.

I spread my tent curtains wide, nailed in the stakes. Here I will rest.

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