Confronting Our ‘Mountains’

Mountains are beautiful, unless
they're standing in the way of our lives.

Mountains. They’re majestic, magnificent, massive. Among of the joys of living in the Chattanooga area are scenic wonders like Signal Mountain and Lookout Mountain, both of which figured significantly during the Civil War, as Confederate troops kept watch along the Tennessee River for approaching Union soldiers.

I’ve also gazed at the Great Smoky Mountains, just a short drive away, and had the opportunity to take in spectacular vistas of the Rocky Mountains on numerous occasions. I’d never consider trying to climb Everest or Kilimanjaro, but viewing such celebrated peaks via cinematic media always provides a vicarious thrill.

Sometimes, however, the “mountains” we encounter aren’t nearly so awe-inspiring; they’re agonizing instead. These emerge as formidable, seemingly immovable obstacles to our quality of life, our hopes and dreams. As the Rev. Anthony Evans described them recently, “they’re too tall to climb, you can’t go around them, and you can’t go through them.”

These mountains take many forms – overwhelming debt, whether due to unplanned expenses, emergencies, unwise spending, or a combination of all three; serious health problems with no sure or simple remedy; life-controlling addictions that afflict either ourselves or loved ones; or crucial, difficult junctures in life when none of the possible options seems acceptable.

Sometimes the tallest, biggest “mountains” we must face come in the form of people, whether, a difficult marriage, struggling children, an impossible boss, pesky neighbors, or even divisive folks at church. In any case, the problems are easy to identify, but solutions are not.

So how do we handle these mountains if it seems we can’t get over them, around them, or through them? Our first reaction might be to shrug our shoulders in resignation and despair. We can always curl up into a fetal position and hope somehow the dilemma will disappear on its own. Or we can turn to the One for whom no difficulty is insurmountable.

In the Scriptures we see repeatedly how apparently impossible situations for God’s people were turned into great triumphs. Joseph sold into slavery by his brothers, then wrongfully imprisoned, but rising to a lofty position of authority in which he was able to intercede for his family – even the traitorous brothers – and ultimately, the nation of Israel. The Israelites literally caught between a seemingly impassable Red Sea and an army of vengeful Egyptian soldiers. Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego strolling through a fiery furnace, carrying not even a whiff of smoke when they emerged. Daniel tossed into a den of lions that turned as docile as kittens.

The list goes on and on, but the point is simple: No mountain, physical or circumstantial, is too high or broad for God to overcome. That’s why He can offer promises like, “do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand” (Isaiah 41:10).

A bit earlier, through the prophet Isaiah in the same book, the Lord also declares, “but those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles, they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint!” (Isaiah 40:31).

At those times when we survey our circumstances and determine, “I can’t do this!” the Lord responds with, “I know, child, but I can – and will.” As the apostle Paul, who had gone through more than his share of impossible situations, stated, “I can do everything through him (Jesus Christ) who gives me strength” (Philippians 4:13).

What “mission:impossible” confronts you today? When you conclude, “I can’t do it. I just can’t!”, believe it or not, you’re in a great place. Because then you can turn to the One who CAN.

‘What Do I Do Now?’

Last weekend I attended a men’s retreat at a picturesque mountaintop setting. We had an excellent speaker who addressed biblical manhood from different perspectives.

His observations stood in striking contrast to both the distorted views of masculinity that pop culture serves up, as well as condescending, chauvinistic perspectives some supposedly “Bible-believing” churches teach. Many men left the retreat pumped up – encouraged to live out their faith in meaningful ways, challenged to go deeper in their walk with Jesus Christ, convicted about changes they need to make, maybe all of the above.

During the retreat I recalled similar “mountaintop experiences” I’ve had over the years. Many times I departed inspired, determined to become a different person.

But there’s a problem, as I noted in this blog some months back. Mountaintops aren’t designed for permanent residence. In fact, the first thing Sir Edmund Hillary said upon becoming the first person to reach the summit of Mt. Everest was, “Now what?” (Not really – at least I don’t think so. But seriously, once you’ve reached the top of the world, where do you go from there?)

When you leave your mountaintop, the destination is usually the valley below. And there deadlines, job pressures, financial obligations, relational conflicts, persistent bad habits and other problems can derail even great intentions.

In fact, more than once, my “spiritual high” from the mountaintop quickly morphed into discouragement upon returning to reality. “What do I do now?”

The key to hanging onto such spiritual resolve has two parts. First, it’s important to remember we don’t have to go it alone. If we let Him, God is our constant companion. We might have had a fresh encounter with Him on the mountaintop, but He’s waiting for us in the valley as well.

Psalm 138:7-10 assures us, “Where can I go from your Spirit? Where can I flee from your presence? If I go up to the heavens, you are there; if I make my bed in the depths, you are there. If I rise on the wings of the dawn, if I settle on the far side of the sea, even there your hand will guide me, your right hand will hold me fast.”

Second, God doesn’t ask us to live our lives isolated from others. As we were reminded at the retreat, our spouses are our helpmates, our completers. His design is for us to team together, as equal partners.

Beyond that, God also sends people our way to serve as friends, counselors, advisers, mentors. As Proverbs 27:17 says, “As iron sharpens iron, so one man sharpens another.” Ecclesiastes 4:9-12 expands on that: “Two are better than one, because they have a good return for their work…. Though one may be overpowered, two can defend themselves. A cord of three strands is not quickly broken.”

So the next time you have a mountaintop experience and then find yourself stuck in the day-to-day doldrums of the valley, don’t try slugging it out on your own. The Lord’s no farther than a whispered prayer. If you’re married, God united you with someone for weathering life’s storms and reveling in its joys together. And He’ll send others your way to catch you when you stumble – so you can do the same for them.

Mountaintops . . . and Valleys

We much prefer "soaring like eagles" to descending into the valley.

Have you ever had a “mountaintop experience,” that moment when you felt so inspired, so energized, so exhilarated you felt you could tackle the world? One that sent you riding waves of emotion and renewed hope?

Such moments present themselves in many ways: At a milestone event, like a wedding or the birth of a child. An encounter with a very special person. During a retreat, conference, or worship service.

I remember returning from Washington, D.C. years ago after interviewing several wonderful individuals for magazine articles. It seemed like I was flying higher than my airplane. I’ve taken part in Christian conferences and conventions with the “best of the best” speakers. After feasting on their biblical wisdom and insight, I thought to myself, “Okay, Lord, I’m ready for anything!”

I even had a “mountaintop experience” years ago viewing the Grand Canyon for the first time, which essentially is a humongous hole in the ground. Witnessing its vastness and grandeur profoundly broadened my appreciation for God’s unlimited creation.

The problem with mountaintops is we can’t remain there. Even climbers that conquer the great peaks of the world eventually must come down. And that’s where the problem lies.

Recently in My Utmost for His Highest, my friend Oswald Chambers – I call him “friend” because he and his timeless devotional have been part of my life for many years – wrote about how we like to revel in “times of exaltation on the mountain.”

Then he noted, “The true test of our spiritual life is in exhibiting the power to descend from the mountain…. We are not made for the mountains, for sunrises, or for the other beautiful attractions of 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 have to prove our stamina and strength.”

Frankly, sometimes following a visit to the mountaintop I experienced a severe letdown, even mild depression. “Why can’t I just stay up there?” I’ve wondered.

The ninth chapter of Mark in the New Testament tells about Jesus and his “inner circle of three” – Peter, James and John – having a similar experience. Atop “the mount of transfiguration,” the disciples saw Jesus’ clothes turn dazzling white and they had a brief encounter with biblical patriarchs Elijah and Moses.

What did they do? They wanted to pitch tents right there and soak in the experience. But soon they were alone with Jesus, preparing to descend to the valley below. Talk about a literal “downer”! But there, in the company of the crowds, Jesus’ followers had to begin applying truths and principles they learned from Him.

The same holds true today. We can find ourselves enraptured by a glorious hymn, a rousing choral presentation, or stirring solo. A powerful spiritual message touches our heart, prompting us to declare undying devotion to God. But then comes Monday morning, Tuesday afternoon, and we’re stuck in mundane stuff of every day – handling irate customers, changing diapers, paying bills – desperately wondering what had us so excited.

We all want to “soar on wings like eagles” as described in Isaiah 40:31, but more often than not, we need to wander around in “the valley of the shadow of death” (Psalm 23:4), trying to make sense of darkness and gloom all around us. It’s at those times, if we listen, that we hear the Lord’s comforting words: “Never will I leave you; never will I forsake you” (Hebrews 13:5).

High on the Mountaintop

Living in Chattanooga, Tennessee is literally a mountaintop experience. We have majestic views available from Lookout Mountain and Signal Mountain; even a panorama of seven states from Rock City on a clear day.

My wife and I live atop a hill on a cul-de-sac, so just waking up each morning is a mountaintop experience of sorts.

But have you ever had one of those life-changing “mountaintop experiences” you wish could last forever? While on staff with CBMC, I regularly attended conferences – often in the Rocky Mountains of Colorado – where I learned from the best of the day’s Bible teachers. After drinking at the fountain of their spiritual wisdom, I would return home feeling like I was flying several feet higher than the jets on which I traveled.

The fact is, however, life is not meant to be lived on the mountaintop, unless you’re a Sherpa guide, I suppose. The Bible tells of the day Jesus took Peter, James and John up a mountain where He became transfigured. After Elijah and Moses appeared to them, the disciples wanted to set up camp. They suggested putting up shelters, one each of Jesus, Elijah and Moses. But Jesus took them back to the valley below.

The beloved Psalm 23 also speaks about walking “in the valley of the shadow of death.” Anyone can become enthused on the mountaintop, whether you’re captivated by some awesome wonder of nature or experiencing a spiritual high. But it’s in the valley – of mundane work responsibilities, frustrating financial obligations, discouraging marriage and family challenges, untimely breakdowns of cars and appliances, agonizing physical ailments – that our faith and convictions are put to the test.

Only in the darkest, loneliest spots in the valley can we embrace the truth of Jesus’ promise, “surely I am with you always…” (Matthew 28:20).