The Art of Moving Mountains
Moving mountains is quite tricky really. So often I hear sermons about how God can move our mountains. Faith of a mustard seed and all. I believe that with God I can move mountains. And yet, there they stand before me again. Daunting peaks and valleys, frozen ice patches splattered along the ridges.
They seem so magnificent and their beauty scares me. How can such a thing move, God? And yet I know it must. I know it doesn't belong here. It blocks me in and hides me from the things beyond it's peaks.
Mountains are situations, experiences and views of ourselves that block us. They trap us. They stop us. These past few months I have wondered why I don't say to my mountains, "Move!". As I have thought about it, I identified three common reasons why I make friends with my mountains instead of moving them.
1. Having a mountain is a good excuse. It's a good reason to stop and an excuse for why I can't or shouldn't. What better reason than to say, "Well, I guess I am off the hook. There is a mountain in my way.". Such an obstacle is a good reason to pitch a tent at the foot of this giant.
I could make a nice life here at base camp. Sure, base camp is more of a place of survival rather than living. Soon I might forget how nice heat is or electricity. Or forget about indoor plumbing. I might start to believe that I was made for nomadic camping instead of being planted in the land God has for me.
When I get weary of pressing on, excuses look good. I like the excuse my mountain offers me. You guys go ahead. I have a mountain. I'll meet you on the other side...maybe.
2. Often I don't move my mountains because I am freaked out what might be on the other side. Most likely it is better than where I am now, but it still scares me. Yes, there could be a flash flood here. Yes, the winters are harsh and long in the shadow of the mountain. Yes, I am always blocked and unable to move, explore or grow. Sadly, I have learned to live like this. And knowing what to expect brings some comfort. Can I really thrive on the other side of the mountain?
3. This realization knocked the wind out of me: Sometimes I don't move my mountains because I need them. I get resources from the mountain. I rely on the animals living on it for my food, it's snow melts into my water and it's caves are my shelter. In a way it replaces God meeting my needs. Why trust Him for water when I can just get it from this muddy pond? The mountain provides me with some identity as well.
Our mountains mark us. Maybe you are the girl with the eating disorder. Or the man who never had a father. Financial crisis is your go-to. No matter who says they love you, you will always be the one who was rejected. We cling to our mountains because they have been feeding us for years.
We aren't made to live in the shadow of daunting, haunting mountains. We were made to move them. ---> click to tweet.
Moving mountains isn't easy. In fact, I don't really know how it works, but I do know that we are called to do it. We look at God, take Him at His word, pray like our lives depend on it and start walking.
Maybe when we approach it, the mountain will disappear. Perhaps the image of the mountain will remain and we will find that God gives us the supernatural strength to walk straight through it's rock core.
There isn't a formula, and I don't know exactly what God is going to do to move your mountains. But I know He will. I know He promised. We aren't made to live in the shadow of daunting, haunting mountains.
We were meant to live free. We were created to live without inhibition. We are destined to move mountains.
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