Yearning for Mountaintops, Living in Valleys

I have never climbed Mount Everest, the Matterhorn, or even Mount Hood. Just driving up Signal Mountain, Tennessee's winding W Road is enough of a climb for me. But that’s not to say I haven’t had some wondrous mountaintop experiences.

 

There have been exhilarating personal events, such as getting married and watching my wife give birth to our children. I’ve enjoyed a number of career milestones, and there have been those thrilling moments of watching my favorite sports team win championships.

 

But the mountaintop experiences that stand out most for me have all been spiritual. Maybe you can remember exactly when you became saved, committing your life to Jesus Christ. Unlike some people, I can’t cite the day and the hour, but know it was more than 40 years ago. Being able to pinpoint the precise moment might seem important for us, but I don’t think it’s such a big deal for God. After all, Ephesians 1:4 declares, “just as He chose us in Him before the foundation of the world, that we would be holy and blameless before Him.” God knew before we did.

 

What I can recall vividly is an October weekend in 1984 when I was in Minneapolis, Minn. for a conference. At the time, even though I was on staff with a Christian ministry, I was struggling with my faith. Anxiety and anger were nagging companions, and I was beginning to question whether I was a true believer at all. “If the Bible says, ‘if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation’ (2 Corinthians 5:17), why do I think and act like the same old knucklehead I’ve always been?”

 

That weekend God in His grace placed me in the home of a man who spent hours helping me to grasp for the first time who I was – and am – in Christ, not who I was feeling that I was or wasn’t. The joy that swept over me was one of the landmarks of my faith, a mountaintop experience I’ll never forget.

 

I’ve spent time on some other spiritual mountaintops over the years: Attending conferences where Bible teachers expounded on truths I had not understood previously. Meeting outstanding examples of people devoted to following Jesus, both famous individuals and “ordinary” folks who aren’t quoted or recognized from podiums. Having someone tell me how something I had written about God and the Christian life had spoken to them deeply.

 

Perhaps you have some cherished mountaintop experiences of your own. But you know something? We’re not made for living on the mountaintops; most of our existence must be spent on what Oswald Chambers called “the demon-possessed valleys.”

 

We see this powerfully demonstrated in Matthew 17:1-9, which recounts Jesus leading Peter, James and John up a high mountain by themselves. It says, “There He was transfigured before them. His face shone like the sun, and His clothes became as white as the light. Just then there appeared before them Moses and Elijah, talking to Jesus.” Do you think that caught the trio of disciples’ attention?

 

They were so awe-struck they wanted to commemorate the event. “Peter said to Jesus, ‘Lord, it is good for us to be here. If you wish, I will put up three shelters – one for you, one for Moses and one for Elijah.’ While he was still speaking, a bright cloud enveloped them, and a voice from the cloud said, ‘This is My Son, whom I love; with Him I am well-pleased. Listen to Him!’ When the disciples heard this, they fell face down on the ground, terrified. But Jesus came and touched them. ‘Get up,’ He said. ‘Don’t be afraid.’ When they looked up, they saw no one except Jesus.”

 

Peter, James and John were probably thinking something like, “Wow! This is awesome, man! Let’s just hang out here – this is the best!” But Jesus took them back down the mountain. In fact, He instructed them, “Don’t tell anyone what you have seen, until the Son of Man has been raised from the dead.” 

 

Can you imagine how the disciples felt? They not only had to leave the mountaintop behind, but also were forbidden to share with others what they had experienced. Soon afterward they were back in the valley, watching Jesus minister to a boy who had been possessed by a demon. What a contrast.

 

That’s the way it must be for all of us. We revel in our mountaintop moments, but we must return to the valleys of everyday living, with its tedium, stresses and struggles. As Chambers writes in his devotional book, My Utmost for His Highest, “We all have experienced times of exaltation on the mountain, when we have seen things from God’s perspective and wanted to stay there. But God will never allow us to stay there. The true test of our spiritual life is in exhibiting the power to descend from the mountain…. 

 

“It is a wonderful thing to be on the mountain with God, but a person only gets there so that he may later go down and lift up the demon-possessed people in the valley. We are not made for the mountains, for sunrises, or for the other beautiful attractions in life – those are simply intended to be moments of inspiration. We are made for the valley and the ordinary things of life, and that is where we prove our stamina and strength….”

Can you identify a mountaintop experience or two that God gave you? Be thankful for them. He may use them in our lives in special ways. But as Chambers said, the test is whether we can turn those moments of inspiration and exhilaration into consistent, fruitful living the Lord. 

Avoiding Becoming a Spiritual ‘Dead Sea’

Beautiful water around Italy's island of Capri.

One of the pleasures of travel is being able to see spectacular locales firsthand that you’ve only read about or seen in pictures. Having been to the Grand Canyon, the Colosseum in Rome, the island of Capri, the Statue of Liberty, and standing among the skyscrapers of New York City, I can attest to how photographic images can’t begin to capture their wonder and grandeur.

I’ve never seen the Dead Sea in person, however, so I must rely on descriptions of this unusual body of water. Bordered on the east by the Jordan River and on the west by Israel and the West Bank, it’s an endorheic lake, which means it retains water because it has no outlet streams to other bodies of water. It’s also hypersaline, meaning it retains salt levels much higher than ocean water. As a result, it hosts virtually no aquatic life, other than bacteria and microbial fungi. 

 

Lacking an inflow of fresh water and outflow to a river or ocean, the Dead Sea is basically stagnated. So what? I think it’s significant because it provides a metaphor for the spiritual life of some who profess to be followers of Jesus Christ.

 

Addressing a crowd that had gathered, Jesus Christ said, “If anyone is thirsty, let him come to me and drink. Whoever believes in me, as the Scripture has said, streams of living water will flow from within him” (John 7:37-38). And yet, have you noticed that sometimes when we encounter people who claim to be Christians, we don’t sense any “living water” flowing from them?

 

In his devotional book, My Utmost for His Highest, Oswald Chambers alluded to this: “We are to be fountains through which Jesus can flow as ‘rivers of living water’ – irrepressible life in blessing to everyone. Yet some of us are like the Dead Sea, always receiving but never giving, because our relationship is not right with the Lord Jesus…whenever the blessings are not being poured out in the same measure they are received, there is a defect in our relationship with Him.”

 

Most of us have been to oceans, seas or lakes that were teeming with life – fish, plants and birds. One characteristic they have in common is the continual inflow and outflow of water. But when this reciprocal inflow/outflow does not occur, as with the Dead Sea, life and growth become impossible.

 

I’m reminded of a friend years ago who told about a man he met who made a point of attending every Christian seminar, workshop and just about every other gathering he heard about, yet never shared his faith with others. When my friend asked why, the man responded, “Oh, I just don’t know enough yet.”

 

Repeatedly in the Scriptures we learn about the importance of not only receiving but also giving out from what we’ve received. In Luke 16:10-11, Jesus was teaching about stewardship: 

“Whoever can be trusted with very little can also be trusted with much, and whoever is dishonest with very little will also be dishonest with much. So if you have not been trustworthy in handling worldly wealth, who will trust you with true riches?”

 

Although the context concerns financial and material possessions, this principle also can be applied to spiritual truth God entrusts to us. Years ago, I came across a verse in one of the earlier NIV translations that offers a simple yet profound message: “I pray that you may be active in sharing your faith, so that you will have a full understanding of every good thing we have in Christ” (Philemon 6).

 

“Sharing our faith” means more than presenting the gospel message to nonbelievers. It also includes sharing with fellow followers of Jesus who He has been teaching us, both through His Word and our life experiences – how He uses them for our good, as well as how He works through us in ministering to other people. And living out our faith for the benefit of others.

 

How we use spiritual truth and understanding the Lord gives to us is a true issue of stewardship. We can hold onto it, selfishly keeping it to ourselves like a prized possession, or pass it along to others, enriching their lives and then allowing God to pour more into us.

 

We can either become a spiritual “Dead Sea,” or perhaps a spiritual equivalent of the Adriatic Sea, known for its crystal clear, blue waters that remain vibrant because of its constant inflow and outflow. To gain a fuller understanding of all Christ has to offer us, we need to share what we already possess. 

Not Made For the Mountaintop, But For the Valley?

A few weeks ago, my wife and I drove up to a restaurant on McCloud Mountain in Duff, Tenn. The food, we were told, is tasty but the main attraction would be the view. The food was pretty good, but the view? Not so much – because clouds had descended over the mountain that day, obscuring what would have been a spectacular scenic vista. At least the mountain lived up to its name.

It wasn’t unexpected because the entire day had been slightly overcast, even in the lowlands below. Still, we were sorry to miss this mountaintop experience. Instead of beautiful, rolling hillsides, everything was shrouded in fog.

 

This was in sharp contrast to what many of us have encountered spiritually. Perhaps, like me, you’ve had one or more “mountaintop experiences,” whether while attending a conference or other special event, or just having moments of inspiration atop some lofty peak. They leave us energized, even super-charged, feeling like we can conquer the world. Even if we’re not mountain climbers.

 

We often wish life in the 
valley could be as clear
as views from the mountain.

That is, until we descend to the valley below – or emerge from the comforts of our spiritual cocoon and run smack into a heavy dose of harsh everyday reality. Talk about having a balloon deflated!

The late Oswald Chambers, whom I regard as a friend since I’ve read his classic devotional book, My Utmost for His Highest,and other writings for decades, writes about this in several of his meditations. For instance: 

“We have all experienced times of exaltation on the mountain, when we have seen things from God’s perspective and have wanted to stay up there. But will never allow us to stay up there…. It is a wonderful thing to be on the mountain with God, but a person only gets there so that he may later go down and lift up the demon-possessed people in the valley…. The mountaintop is not meant to teach us anything, it is meant to make us something" (from October 1).

 

In the next day’s meditation, Chambers writes, “The height of the mountaintop is measured by the dismal drudgery of the valley, but it is in the valley that we have to live for the glory of God…. It is in the place of humiliation that we find out our true worth to God – that is where our faithfulness is revealed.”

 

Over the years I’ve a number of mountaintop experiences, in the most literal sense – atop Lookout Mountain in Georgia, the Smokie Mountains near Asheville, N.C., and Dayton Mountain in Tennessee. Time spent there launched me into a spiritual high, but then, returning to the valleys below, I spiraled into a spiritual funk. “What was it that had me so excited?” I’d wonder as nasty now-and-now moments crowded out the “the sweet by and by” reveries I’d felt less than a week before.

 

Can you relate? Those exhilarating moments when we want to shout, “Hey, Lord, it’s You and me, all the way!” followed by a period of near depression once we’ve descended again into daily ruts and routines?

 

If so, we need not feel badly. Because that’s how Jesus’ disciples felt as well – and they hung out with Him in the flesh, nearly 24/7 for about three years. The classic example is called the Transfiguration, when the Lord’s inner three – Peter, James and John – joined Him atop a lofty mountain and witnessed Him being transfigured in appearance. Then Elijah and Moses, themselves no strangers to mountaintop experiences, supernaturally appeared to them all.

 

Peter, ever Mr. Impetuous, was so taken by the experience that he declared, “Rabbi, it is good for us to be here. Let us put up three shelters – one for you, one for Moses and one for Elijah” (Mark 9:2-6). He and the other disciples hadn’t yet figured out who Jesus really was. Up until then they just considered Him an enthralling, charismatic religious leader.

 

Coming down from the mountain, it says, “Jesus gave them orders not to tell anyone what they had seen until the Son of Man had risen from the dead. They kept the matter to themselves, discussing what ‘rising from the dead’ meant” (Mark 9:9-10).

 

Can you imagine what these eager followers must have thought and felt? Perhaps in the days leading up to Jesus’ betrayal, trial and crucifixion they might have even wondered, “What was that? Did that really happen? Or were we just dreaming?”

 

I’m grateful for my mountaintop moments, because the residual effects helped to shape me into who God wanted me to become – and provided a lasting vision for what He intended for me to do. But at times, however, it’s still been tough trying to plod through the drudgeries and discouragements of everyday life, when inspiration seems in short supply.

 

That’s when I need to remind myself of what Chambers said more than 100 years ago, that “it is in the valley that we have to live for the glory of God.” And that, “the mountaintop is not meant to teach us anything, it is meant to make us something." Here in the valley, we must discover what that “something” is and pursue it with all our heart.

Should We Just ‘Let Go and Let God’?

Should we just "let go and let God"?

There’s a school of thought that even if we believe in the Lord, we’ve got to work our heads off to accomplish what He wants to get done. “If it’s going to be, it’s up to me,” goes the mantra. Then there’s the opposite perspective that it’s totally up to Him; we have nothing to do with it. This view says, “Let go, and let God.” So which is it?

We could simply shrug and borrow the words of the King of Siam in “The King and I” and declare, “it is a puzzlement.” Or we could conclude, based on the Scriptures, that it’s a case not of either/or, but one of both/and. Writer and theologian J.I. Packer has stated it well, arguing for what amounts to a middle ground: “It’s not let go and let God – it’s trust God and get going.” 

Oswald Chambers offers a similar view in My Utmost for His Highest: “There are not three levels of spiritual life – worship, waiting, and work…. God’s idea is that the three should go together as one.” Later he writes, “We are not sent to do battle for God, but to be used by God in His battles.”

There are times when we have exhausted every resource, when we’ve run out of ideas for addressing a particular need or concern. At those times, we have no option but to let go and let God. There’s nothing more we can do, so we must trust Him to do what we cannot. However, at other times we worry about a certain matter and use that refrain as a cop-out. “I’ll just sit here on this stump and wait for the Lord to do something about it."

I’m in the process of writing a book. It’s taken some time to get it done, and admittedly there have been times I wished I could just step aside and let the Lord finish it. After all, it’s all about Him and people who have been faithfully serving Him for decades. However, God has given me the ability to write, a passion for the craft, and a gift for communicating His truth in practical ways. So I know this book has to be a partnership between Him and me.

Jesus said in John 15:5, “apart from Me you can do nothing,” so I realize that if I attempt to accomplish anything of eternal value without Him, I’m being more than foolish. At the same time, it was the apostle Paul, himself a very strong, determined fellow, who wrote, “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me” (Philippians 4:13). The Lord empowers us – gives us the capacity – to carry out the work He has entrusted to us.

Speaking on what motivated him, what drove him, to be so urgent and instant in proclaiming the Good News of Jesus Christ, Paul stated, “If we are out of our mind, it is for God; if we are of sound mind, it is for you. For Christ’s love compels us…” (2 Corinthians 5:13-14).

So, as for “let go and let God,” sometimes we have no other alternative. Most of the time, however, He wants us join with Him in His work, because as the apostle declared in his first letter to the church in Corinth, “For we are God's fellow workers; you are God's field, God's building” (1 Corinthians 3:9). 

There’s no place in the Lord’s workforce for the complacent or the inert. We all have a calling; we all have a job to do. But we must never forget that apart from Him, we can’t do anything that will matter for eternity.

What’s the Use, Anyway? What’s OUR Use?

Looking into our silverware drawer the other day, I noticed something: The spoons, forks and knives weren’t laying in their respective sections asking, “What is my purpose?” “Am I of any use?” “What’s the meaning of being a utensil?” 

There are two reasons for that. First, of course, they’re inanimate; inanimate things don’t talk – or think. (Unless they’re performing in a “Beauty and the Beast” movie where the cups, saucers and candlesticks all prance around and talk with abandon.) Secondly, it’s because the person who picks them up is the one who determines their purpose, use, and meaning.

For example, someone decides the immediate use of a spoon is for eating a bowl of cereal or ice cream, or for stirring creamer into a cup of coffee. The user determines the purpose, not the spoon. The same could be said about forks, knives, spatulas, ladles, etc.

It seems we spend an inordinate amount of time wondering such things of ourselves. We tend to ponder imponderables like: Why am I here? What’s the meaning of life? Or the penetrating question a cinematic theme song of decades ago asked, “What’s it all about, Alfie?”

Not that there’s anything wrong with thinking about these deep matters. We’d all like to believe we’re here for a good reason, that we’re not cosmic accidents lacking purpose or plan. But if our trust is in God, His wisdom and sovereignty, maybe it’s not healthy getting into a mental tangle over this.

Reading recently from my favorite devotional book, My Utmost for His Highest, author Oswald Chambers suggested, “We should quit asking ourselves, ‘Am I of any use?’ and accept the truth that we really are not of much use to [God]. The issue is never of being of use, but of being of value to God Himself. Once we are totally surrendered to God, He will work through us all the time.”

When we first read this, it can sound somewhat demeaning. What does Chambers mean, “we really are not of much use to God”? But the Lord’s work proceeded quite well for countless years before we arrived on the scene, and His work will continue long after we’re gone. So as much as it pains us to admit, we’re not indispensable.

At the same time, we are privileged to know that God can and will use us. In Jeremiah 29:11, He declares, “For I know the plans I have for you…plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you a hope and a future.”

Earlier in the same book God says, “Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, before you were born I set you apart; I appointed you as a prophet to the nations” (Jeremiah 1:5). It’s amazing to consider that even before he became a gleam in his mother’s eyes, the prophet Jeremiah had been chosen by God for a very special work.

Most of us haven’t been selected to serve as prophets, or preachers, or foreign missionaries, but as followers of Jesus Christ we can have the assurance that He does have a very special role for us – a calling we each have been created uniquely to fulfill.  

As the apostle Paul’s first letter to the Corinthians asserts, “But God has combined the members of the body and has given greater honor to the parts that lacked it…. Now you are the body of Christ, and each of you is a part of it. And in the church God has appointed [people with different gifts]….” (1 Corinthians 12:24-28). 

Just as each fork, spoon and knife in our kitchen drawer can provide very useful service according to our wishes, each of us can rejoice that when and as needed, God “will work through us all the time,” as Chambers wrote. So with joy, as Paul exhorted believers in ancient Rome, we can “offer [ourselves] to God…and offer the parts of [our] body to him as instruments of righteousness” (Romans 6:11-13).

How Can We Do Everything?

Years ago, a TV commercial showed a businessman sitting at his desk, talking on the telephone to his boss. Every few moments he would dutifully respond, “I can do that!” “I can do that!” However, when he hung up the phone, a quizzical look appeared on his face and he asked, “How am I going to do that?”

Do you ever feel that way? I have. It’s not unusual to commit to do more than we can realistically handle, even very good things, and wonder later, “Why did I commit to doing that?” For some reason, when asked to do something, it’s easier at first to say “Yes,” and then scratch our heads and wonder, “What was I thinking?”

Sometimes it’s because we don’t wish to let other people down. We want to please them, make them think well of us. If we say no, maybe they won’t like us. Or we overcommit out of guilt – we feel obligated or believe it’s a worthwhile request, so how can we possibly refuse?

Occasionally I still find myself in this type of situation, but reminders from my friend, Oswald Chambers, have helped a lot over the years. For more than 30 years I’ve read his devotional book, My Utmost for His Highest, almost daily. Chambers died 100 years ago, and yet I regard him as a friend because his wisdom has been so helpful. Among his insights are two statements that can greatly help in weighing opportunities that come our way.

One is simply that “a need does not constitute a call.” All around us are countless needs; but that doesn’t necessarily mean they’re a personal call for us to fulfill them. If a need is legitimate, someone should try to meet it, but that person might not be you – or me.

For instance, someone might need a faucet fixed or roof repaired. I may recognize that need, but being “mechanically challenged,” I realize I’m not the one to meet that need. At least if they want the job done right. My “help” would be finding someone with the necessary skills. However, if someone were to need help composing an important letter, or desperately desired a more experienced person as a mentor, those could be needs God was calling me specifically to meet.

A second statement Oswald made elaborates on the first, enabling us to discern which needs we indeed are called to address. In his book, several times he says, “Good is the enemy of the best.” Initially this sounds curious, but when you think about it, not so much.

I’ve used this advice for evaluating many opportunities, ranging from leadership roles to participating in special outings to providing writing and editing services for specific organizations. Any one of those things would be considered “good,” what someone should do. The question is, are they the “best” things for me to do, given my finite time and capacities?

The Scriptures declare we are “fearfully and wonderfully made” (Psalm 139:14). As such we each have a divinely ordained design and purpose – a distinctive mix of talents, gifts and passions from God. Some things we can perform with ease and enthusiasm; others grudgingly, only with extreme effort.

Ecclesiastes 9:10 tells us, “Whatever your hand finds to do, do it with all your might.” And Colossians 3:23-24 admonishes us, “Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for human masters, since you know that you will receive an inheritance from the Lord as a reward. It is the Lord Christ you are serving.”

Some brief jobs or tasks we might undertake because they must be done at that moment and there’s no one else available. But usually, if God has called us to do something, we’ll find joy in carrying it out – and in one way or another, bear fruit for eternity.

I’ll never forget the scene in the film, “Chariots of Fire,” when Eric Liddell’s sister confronts him about his insistence on training for the Olympics as a runner. Liddell, a Scotsman, affirms to her that he has no doubts about his call to mission work in China, but also observes, “I believe God made me for a purpose, but He also made me fast! And when I run I feel His pleasure.”

If, like Liddell, we sense “God’s pleasure” when busily engaged in something, we can feel confident we’ve accurately discerned what’s best from that which is merely good. Then we can truly do it with all our heart, as working for the Lord.