Cascade Mountain, Part 1: Arriving at the Summit
“He sits enthroned above the earth, and its people are like grasshoppers” (Isaiah 40:22).
Adirondack Mountains, NY
Un..unbelievable!
We had begun three hours earlier, ascending the wooded trail, a moderate incline. After the first half hour, the noise of cars below faded. All was quiet but for wind whispering in the trees. Pine and white birch obscured our view. The winding rocky trail grew steeper, strewn with rocks and tilted slabs that I named “God’s sidewalk.” Sand, mud, narrow passages bordered by dark crooked tree trunks, towering pines, twisting trail, up more rocky steps, turn and climb higher still, unending. Stops for water, catching breath, checking pulse. Climbing more steep rock, up into the forest and out of sight.
Around a bend, into a rocky clearing, and bam! We were suddenly at the summit, looking down on lakes far below, hillsides of pine stretching far across the horizon, and more mountains beyond. The wide-open view was such a contrast and shock—it overwhelmed me! With shaky legs, I had to sit down and catch my breath. I was near tears, overcome with emotion at the beauty and the vast contrast.
Life below suddenly seemed so small and insignificant. Cars down there may have been speeding along, but from up here they seemed mere bugs crawling, barely noticeable in the grand scheme of scenery. It humbled me to think that God in His greatness still cares for us in our smallness.
Thank You, Lord, for allowing me a more accurate picture of my place in Your great world.
Cascade Mountain, Part 2: the Summit
“He who forms the mountains, creates the wind, and treads the high places of the earth — the Lord God Almighty is His name” (Amos 4:13).
Crouching on craggy rock, desperately clutching my hat in the wind, I sit in terrified awe of such grandeur. One glance outward and suddenly I feel almost airborne over huge mountainsides of pine forest. My chest fills with fright at the immensity. I cling to the rock rough with lichen beside me. The rock is my friend; it will not let me fall.
The blue-green mountains before me are more than majestic—they are huge, terrifying in their own league. Like a terrible stormy sea, they are rolling camel humps, steep, furry with pine. Each row of mountains grows a lighter blue-grey, misty at their base. I hear only the wind whipping my clothes. Now a large scraggly-winged raven hovers overhead, treading on the air current, hollering in the wind.
Up here there is nothing but wind, insects, birds, mountains, and forests. The mountains point upward to their Maker, whose huge hands shaped these mighty giants of rock and scratchy pine. There is no disputing—He holds the upper hand! We have been conquered, climbed over by His faceless towers of stone. We are put in our place, weak, tiny specks, crouching in fearful wonder.
God is mighty. He will not be conquered by mere mankind. These mountains confirm it, and we cannot change what is here. God is here.
God, maker of mountains, we bow before You in humble adoration.
