I have climbed many a mountain in my lifetime, but no matter how many I climb, I never cease to be amazed how belligerent my flesh can become at the notion of climbing another one.
Rising up in front of me there is likely the steepest mountain I have personally encountered. The edges are jagged and positioned to potentially render a tear or two into my flesh should I embrace the climb haphazardly. The peak rises into the clouds where the air will most certainly be thin... very thin.
In recent weeks, I have surveyed this particular mountain from various angles, searching for a path around the mountain. I have had numerous bouts of just standing at its base, saying to God, "Are you kidding?"
There is no path around it, and there is no visible path up it -- not even so much as a hint of a path. No, this will be a maiden climb. I have come to understand it will take absolutely everything that God has placed within me to date to scale this one, and the cost upon my person has been and will continue to be immeasurable.
Have you been in such a spot yourself? Surreal, isn't it? Numbing, too.
The other day, as I sat staring at this mountain, the Spirit spoke, "All the other climbs have conditioned you for this climb." Quietly and submitted, my inner voice said, "Yes, Lord, I know."
His words, while they ring of truth, offered little in the way of comfort.
The other morning I awoke to the Spirit saying, "He restores my soul." He had to say it twice, probably because the first time didn't hardly register. After all, hello? The concept of restoration is paradoxical to climbing.
But I get it. For years, God has spoken to me prophetically. For example, right before my husband was laid off in 1999/2000 for 2 years and 2 months, the Spirit clearly spoke, "I will restore the years the locust have eaten." (There's that word "restore" again. Did you catch it?) You can only imagine how short-circuited I felt when just days after hearing God speak these words my husband walks in the front door.... jobless. But true to His Word, restoration did come.
Now the words the Spirit spoke several days ago now come from the well known Psalm 23. Suffice to say we usually associate Psalm 23 as the "death passage," a passage habitually read at gravesides, but we would be amiss to lose sight that there is life application, too!
For reasons I have not fully wrapped myself around just yet, as I stare up at this pending mountain, I not only hear "He restores my soul," but I hear what precedes those words -- particularly "He leads me beside quiet waters."
So, having more "conditioning," as gained by previous climbs, than perhaps I ever set out to obtain in my life, I find a subtle and "slug-slow" resolve emerging. My courage increases with a scale that is best measured in millimeters, but increases nevertheless with a prophetic bent that quiet waters, green pastures, and restoration of my soul await me for His name's sake after the climb.
I do not climb alone. Is a matter of fact -- before my feet ever hit the mountain -- God has commanded my husband to move out ahead and forge the path. While that aspect certainly will help, he cannot climb for me. Each of us --- married or not -- must determine to take how ever long it takes to draw from God the necessary strength, courage, and vision for the climb. And then believe it is possible.
I am reminded of something Audrey Hepburn once said, "Nothing is impossible, the word itself says 'I'm possible'!" And of even greater import, Jesus' words, "with God all things are possible.” (Matt 19:26)
What saves a man is to take a step. Then another step.
C. S. Lewis
Love to you all,
Deborah
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