The Mountain of Me

I was standing in the shadows of the majestic mountain & my job was to climb to the top. With my limited experience, I decided that I was to make the treacherous journey alone, I had to do it all on my own with no help, and that I was going to be an expert on the steepest and most dangerous side of the rugged highland. Somehow, I thought that if the climb wasn’t difficult it meant that I didn’t belong on the mountain. I believed that I needed to suffer through the experience to prove how great I was and what I had overcome by the time the end came. I was going to be glorified for my climb.

Along the way I put extra rocks into my pack to build strength and look more accomplished. I suffered greatly to seem more humble. I neglected proper rest and nutrition to prove that I could survive anything. I would have my scars and “war” wounds for sport and stories. I was driven to prove my worth to the rest of the world in the greatest test of my life. And off I went.

I had blisters on my hands and feet as I climbed as well as any novice could. I was eager and excited to win the race and was in the zone. I heard a voice say, “You skipped a step!” Puzzled, I looked back and realized that I had indeed been in a hurry and took a larger lunge than necessary.  I continued on my climb and ignored the pain of a pulled muscle and my bleeding leg. “A little pain won’t hurt,” I thought, “It’s good for me. It develops ‘character’ and it will make my story more convincing.”

I couldn’t shake the thought that I had missed something. I was doing the best I could. And I pressed forward. I found myself in an awkward holding position. I was shaking to hold firm.

A voice again said, “It doesn’t have to be that hard.” That thought took me by surprise. I was caught off guard and lost my footing. “What do you mean it doesn’t have to be this hard?” I yelled, “That was the plan!” And gathered my composure and continued onward with hastened pace and new adventures.

But how long would I have to keep up this pace? I just wanted to be done climbing. I was tired, exhausted, alone, and afraid. Why couldn’t I be at the peak already? I knew that’s where I belonged, so why did He make it so hard? I finally looked beyond my perspective of how far away I was from my end goal. I was defeated. I was never going to be enough.

Then there was a subtle thought, a new idea. I turned around and saw something that I hadn't noticed before. There was an easier, well-marked trail off to my left. And there were people actually walking on it, and they looked happy?! “That’s absurd!” I thought, “You mean this whole time that direction was right next to me?”

Fed up and frustrated, I made my way to the ledge nearest my new discovery. I decided to cut the ropes that burned, choked, and bound me to the monstrous mountain and let myself fall slowly down onto the trail. I fell to the dust and wept for my loss.

In all my getting, I got further away from everything and everyone I ever wanted. I wanted to be right, and I was, or so I thought. The sobering truth of trust, of putting one foot in front of the other, and of holding on to the railing was my new course and I would follow it one day at a time. For truly God had my back and would catch me when I had fallen. The truth be known, I was never alone.