Mountains

"We need that mountain. I need that mountain to understand God better."

I overheard that sentence recently while I was in Oregon visiting family. Narrow, winding roads led us to a beautiful cabin in eastern Washington where we all gathered for the weekend. Tall, consuming windows in the living room made space for the view of Mt. Adams. I was sitting on one of the couches that faced the mountain when I overheard that sentence. The sky was an uncharacteristic shade of blue and there were no clouds. The mountain looked epic.

Without hearing the second half of that conversation, I could agree. That mountain helped me understand God better that day too. That day, nothing seemed more real, more outstanding or more majestic to me than the crisp, clear view of Mt. Adams. But other days, the clouds roll in and you can't see the mountain as well, or sometimes, at all. I can't remember quite where it stands or quite what it looks like. I know it's there, but it's easy to down play it. But on a clear day, it takes my breath away. The analogy here is obvious. Sometimes God's presence in my life is so abundantly clear that it takes my breath away. Other days, I can't see it as well. Regardless, it's always there.

Loud Singing

Life is loud. Literally and metaphorically loud. We live in the busiest time in history, where a gap in your schedule isn't just rare, it's avoided. We are physically racing around, which of course results in mentally racing around.
    As I mentioned in my previous post, I am in a quieter, calmer season of life. This has not resulted in a quieter, calmer thought life, unfortunately. If anything, it's louder and more hectic. My thoughts drift between specific worries like "why didn't I clean the house more?" to vague concerns like "why don't I have a better job?" or "why haven't I finished my degree yet?" I could go on and on about the way my subconscious terrorizes me. If there is a trip or an event coming up, my anxiety is screaming. There are wonderful things that create noise in my life too; long phone conversations with friends, catchy music, honest discussions at home community, podcasts in the car. Whether the noise is life-taking or life-giving, it's everywhere. It's everyday. It's all the time.
    There are a lot of parts of the Bible I don't understand or that don't resonate with me. But I always, always bathe in the parts where God hushes us. The parts where God tells us he wants to lead us to still waters, away from the crashing waves that have surrounded us. I often feel him pulling me by the hand away from my anxieties and social commitments, but I can't help but glance back over my shoulder at the things left behind.
   When life is loud and my ears are ringing from the internal dialogue I can't turn down, I remember this:

"The Lord your God is in your midst, a mighty one who will save; he will rejoice over you with gladness; he will quiet you by his love; he will exult over you with loud singing." Zephaniah 3:17

He quiets me by his love. His loud singing drowns out the voice of my anxieties and he saves me from myself. This verse was shown to me about a year ago and it has drastically changed the way I experience God.

So today, as I pack up my things to fly home and say good bye to my sister who is moving to Kenya, I'm exchanging my flight anxiety and the overwhelming emotional weight of this trip for the peace and clarity that comes from Jesus' sweet, sweet voice.