Hiking – I don’t like either the word or the thing. People ought to saunter in the mountains – not hike! Do you know the origin of that word ‘saunter?’ It’s a beautiful word.
Away back in the Middle Ages people used to go on pilgrimages to the Holy Land, and when people in the villages through which they passed asked where they were going, they would reply, “A la sainte terre,’ ‘To the Holy Land.’ And so they became known as sainte-terre-ers or saunterers.
Now these mountains are our Holy Land, and we ought to saunter through them reverently, not ‘hike’ through them.”
-John Muir
The mountains are my Holy Land. I go there to pray and rest in the presence of the Lover of my soul. It’s holy because He is holy.
I met some firefighters at the grocery store this evening. They were in town picking up snacks and toiletries and enjoying the luxury of cell service. Everyone smiled at them.
The men and women who fight forest fires are heroes around here. They leave behind a cloud of ashes and the smell of smoke wherever they go, but they take with them the sincere thanks of people who live in British Columbia. This time they also received free advice from a kind soul who warned them to be careful.
“You need to keep your noses open because if you smell smoke there will be a fire somewhere,” he grinned, proud of remembering an important lesson. He told them if he had money he would take them all out for a drink. They thanked him graciously. They knew he meant it.
I asked which fire they were working. It was the big one that threatened the city of Kimberley and the beautiful valley of St. Mary’s Lake. “But we had lots of rain this week, so we should be finishing up soon,” one guy said.
One of my friends has been working at the perimeter of the same fire. He guards fire-fighting equipment all night because, believe it or not, thieves like to steal tools and machinery that men and women use to save lives and property – perhaps even the thieves’ own. Some people are givers and some are takers. Lord, help us all.
Yesterday I followed dramatic skies up to a little lake in the hills. I had to tuck my camera under my jacket and run back to the car when it began to rain. In a few minutes it began to pour.
After a while a gap in the clouds allowed the sun to pour through at the same time.
We prayed so long for rain. And it came.
Rain feels beautifully cleansing and refreshing after a season of choking on smoke and watching for evacuation alerts. I felt thankful — thankful for the fire crews, thankful for the rain, and thankful for the green forests I love so much.
There is something about almost losing something that increases its value.
For those of you who have lost homes and beautiful wooded views, I am so sorry. May the change of seasons bring you hope of new beginnings.
We all need hope. Hope teaches us to dance in the rain by faith before the day comes when our clothes get soaked and we dash for the car.
So let us know, let us press on to know the Lord. His going forth is as certain as the dawn; and He will come to us like the rain…
But as for me, I will watch expectantly for the Lord; I will wait for the God of my salvation. My God will hear me.
Micah 7:7
Smoke from the fires here in British Columbia blocks out the sun and our view of the mountains. I’ve seen the pictures of Slave Lake and Fort McMurry in Alberta and cities in California after wildfires swept in. We live in the middle of a tinder-dry forest. I know what can happen – and there’s no rain in sight.
The next town down the road is on evacuation alert. I wonder if I should be packing up a lifetime of family photos or deciding which paintings and heirlooms to take and which to leave to the flames if we need to run.
My anxiety level rises when I feel pressured to make a decision, whether it’s what kind of replacement laptop to buy or whether or not I should throw an old guitar in the back seat of the car. I can’t think straight. That’s when I need to take a step back into rest and trust and ask the Lord what I am missing.
Usually the missing element is peace, and it’s missing because FOMO (fear of missing out) or FOFSI (fear of forgetting something important) has taken it’s place.
Today is one of those days when I find I am actually pressuring myself to make decisions based on “What if _____________ (enter disaster de jour event here) happens?”
Sometimes I don’t receive direction because I don’t need it. I’ve noticed God tends not to bother with answers to hypothetical questions about events that will never occur.
Sometimes my frustration or confusion is due to an inability to hear because of a barrage of fearful thoughts that drown out God’s voice.
Sometimes I don’t hear because my confidence is misplaced. The author of the book of Proverbs wrote about the dangers of trusting in our own armaments over trusting in God. You can do your best to prepare for the battle, but ultimate victory comes from the Lord God. (Prov. 21:31 TPT)
Sometimes, when I remember to step into the quietness of peace where his still voice is best heard, he simply asks for trust. “Put your confidence in Me. Watch. Wait. I’m still here.”
The words of Fanny Crosby’s song, “Blessed Assurance” have been coming to me lately.
Perfect submission, all is at rest; I in my Savior am happy and blest, Watching and waiting, looking above, Filled with His goodness, lost in His love…
His goodness and mercy follow me all the days of my life, and His lovingkindness endures forever — even when I forget.
Last year the mountain ash tree outside my window bore no fruit. This year the branches bend low under the weight of thousands of berries. In the winter, when nothing grows here in the Canadian Rockies, birds will feast on them. Abundant provision now for sustenance later.
My prayer for you today:
Now may God, the inspiration and fountain of hope,
O God, make the king a godly judge like you and give the king’s son the gift of justice too.
Help him to give true justice to your people, honorably and equally to all.
Then the mountains of influence will be fruitful, and from your righteousness prosperity and peace will flow to all the people.
(Psalm 71: 1-3 TPT)
I never noticed until this week how often the Bible speaks of righteousness and peace being in relationship with each other. Our landscapes are shaped by both. Righteousness creates space for peace to flourish. Peace creates an environment for righteousness to grow.
I pray with great faith for you, because I’m fully convinced that the One who began this glorious work in you will faithfully continue the process of maturing you and will put his finishing touches to it until the unveiling of our Lord Jesus Christ!
The signs were not good. I was worried. From where I stood the odds against a particular situation in my life turning out well for all concerned were as high as a British Columbia mountain. The word, “insurmountable” came to mind. I wasn’t so much praying as worrying at God, trying to explain the problem to Him from my point of view.
I placed my empty coffee cup and wadded napkin in the trash bag the stewardess held as she made her way back up the aisle of plane. She thanked me and moved on. I turned back to my book.
“Clearly, if we are to walk with the Father in his ways, then our earthbound thinking requires serious adjustment.”*
I looked out the window at the dramatic view of mountains and valleys below. It wasn’t easy, but I fished my camera out of my backpack under the seat in front of me. I am not fond of heights, but for some reason I love flying, especially on a glorious early spring day with fresh snow on the peaks.
The flight from Vancouver on the western edge of the province to my city, nestled in a valley on the eastern side, lasts less than an hour and a half. Crossing the province in a little car would take one very long day through deep dark valleys and over high passes. Driving in avalanche and unpredictable weather season is not for the faint of heart. I try to avoid the expense of flying, but going by plane, even a small prop plane, is so much easier.
I took a few more snaps then hung the camera strap around my neck and read on.
“In His realm, His abundance in heaven obliterates our poverty on earth. In his domain we are never outclassed, overwhelmed or overcome. No matter what is against us, we can win through His name. Impossible odds are fun to Him, who loves to laugh at His enemies.
I laughed out loud. The man across the aisle looked at me funny, but it didn’t matter. What are the odds of me telling God about impossible odds from my earthbound view and then Him telling me about odds from His heavenly view — as I occupied a seat in the sky?
“We are learning how to occupy a seat in heavenly places in Christ, so that his viewpoint of the circumstances is the one that dominates our thinking, praying, and believing.”
I aimed my camera out the window again. From this perspective I could see lakes and fields beyond the ranges that seemed so imposing from down there. I could see the bigger picture from my chair in the sky, seated where I was in this high place.
When it came to my problem, it felt as if the Lord was saying, “Keep looking down. You are seated with Christ in heavenly places.”**
In this place all things are beneath His feet and nothing is impossible.”
Nothing.
*Graham Cooke, Manifesting Your Spirit, pp. 28, 29
** Ephesians 2:6
For you are my dove, hidden in the split-open rock. It was I who took you and hid you up high in the secret stairway of the sky. Let me see your radiant face and hear your sweet voice. How beautiful your eyes of worship and lovely your voice in prayer.
I was thinking about the word “prayer” today when I passed by the creek. I paused and felt Jesus smile in an old familiar way.
When I was a child, I had a secret place where no one could find me. I dragged my little sled down the back lane, across the street and down into the gulley where the creek ran. That was in the days when kids could roam more freely. We just had to be home before supper – or before hypothermia set in.
In the summer the soggy earth at the bottom of the valley sucked the shoes right off your feet, but in the winter the mounds of bent grass and hummocks of earth proved solid under my feet. The sled gave me a dry place to sit among the bulrushes. Sometimes the water bubbled under the ice and sometimes it flowed through open channels. No one could see me. I sat quietly for hours, telling Jesus things I couldn’t tell anybody else.
I didn’t know I was praying. I thought prayer involved reciting rhymes at the dinner table, or at bedtime or making speeches to God in a voice loud enough for Him to hear in case he was sitting in the back row like the other people who hoped to make a fast getaway. I thought silent prayer happened at those times when the preacher told everyone to be quiet and think about what horrible sinners they were and how much they had disappointed God. Then he told us to apologize and promise to never do it again –knowing we would, because we were, as was mentioned frequently, horrible sinners with “desperately wicked hearts.”
I was afraid of that god. I assumed he was like my grandfather and always angry with me for making noises and messes. I didn’t talk to that god when I was down in the gully, but I could talk to Jesus, because he was more like a brother.
Most of the time I don’t think I said anything. I sat in my secret place and listened to the crows or the ga-bloop sound of the water trying to break free from the ice. I didn’t know that sitting still, and saying nothing, just being, was prayer.
We learn to know the Saviour in the secret place. But he is not limited to that place. The corporate knowledge of his presence is also important. Prayers in agreement with other believers are powerful. Corporate prayer is different.
As an adult I have difficulty praying extemporaneous prayers in public. I try to become invisible when someone asks “Who wants to open in prayer?” My friends will tell you I have no problem speaking in front of people but praying is different. Jesus showed me what the father was really like, so I’m not afraid of him anymore, and once I recognized Holy Spirit I love his presence. It’s the other people in the room that make me uncomfortable.
Once, a person who I’m sure was trying to be encouraging, told me she thought I had prayed “some good prayers” at our regular prayer meetings, but suggested I pay attention to a couple of star intercessors and study their presentation. I began to wonder if they were going to hold up cards with scores on them. Technique: 4.9 Artistic Impression: 3.2
I didn’t stay.
You see, when I pray I am like that kid in the gully just talking with Jesus – if that kid were naked and without protective walls. I have to be completely transparent in the presence of God because he knows everything anyway, and really, who am I fooling?
I stammer in front of people. I’m not sure they’re as accepting as he is. I can let my guard down for a while, but my hand still holds the rope and pulley that whip it up pretty fast again. I’m working with being okay with what people think and staying focused on God and allowing the Holy Spirit in me to connect with the Holy Spirit in them. Unity in the Spirit doesn’t keep score, see prayer as “work,” or seek its own agenda. Unity in the Spirit means the Spirit leads in adoration and decides the priority of needs to bring to our relentlessly kind Abba — Father.
I’m thankful for trustworthy friends who are teaching me that where two or three are gathered, there is Jesus in the midst. He is the one we are looking to. Our hearts are centered on him.
But I still meet him in the secret place wherever that might be now. I don’t always remember, but I still need to withdraw from the noise and rapid pace of life to sit still in the quiet with him. Today he again met with me down by the creek, in the snow, just like in the old days.
Charis: Subject to Change 