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| Picture taken by coveredindust :: Breckenridge, CO |
The serenity of nature calms my soul and I experience a "letting go"-- call it surrender-- of the noise of life and there, in that place of stillness, Jesus speaks to me. Not audibly. It's more like a knowing; as if His words and feelings are implanted into my own consciousness and heart.
There is a "one-ness" I experience with Jesus at times like this that seems fragile, weighty, substantial; as if the wind of His presence blows through the thin veil of this reality and touches my core essence. My heart beats in rhythm with His. His breath fills my lungs.
Moments like this have always been few and far between. In my experience, they've been times of grandeur and revelation characterized by epiphanies and surges of spiritual awakening. I have lived for these "mountain top" moments desiring them like a junky yearning for his next fix or an addict thirsting for his next quench. I wanted the hilltops without the valleys, the highs without the lows. My goal, though I would have never actually said it this way, was to shorten the distance between crest and canyon.
I wanted the kingdom and the King but didn't want battle necessary to be in the presence of the King. I long for the day when His presence will be all encompassing, saturating.
Eventually, I had to come down the mountain. I had to accept that closeness and intimacy like this was only available to me in silence and solitude away from my daily routine. Which to me, meant plugging back into the Matrix of reality mourning for another time when the busyness and hustle and everyday battle would subside and I could re-join the Lover of my Soul in the wild places. "Normal" life would only grant me glimpses of the glory of resting with Jesus in the closeness that my soul needed to be refreshed.
Then, during a literal mountain retreat (10,000 ft in the mountains of CO), He altered the rules of engagement. Jesus decided that it was time for me to change how He and I interacted; to bestow upon me a greater capacity. He decided that during what would normally be grandiose moments for me-- to rest in His permeating presence-- that He would simply be with me like a constant drip of refreshment rather than flood. The only phrases that can point toward my experience are mundane holiness and everyday sanctity.
Yet, I still had to come down the mountain. This time, it was different. Yes, the normalcy of obligations and duties were just as present and demanding as before. I wish I could confess to you that it was somehow better now and that life has taken on a whole new meaning... but that's not true for me.
There is a new found awareness and level of trust that has seemed to grow. It is now a greater capacity to see Jesus in the mundane, in the ordinary. It's a lot like wearing blinders only to have them removed and realize that there is such a thing as peripheral. It's like listening to music in mid-tone mono only to plug into a receiver and realize that there's such a thing as 7.1 stereo surround with treble, midrange and bass tones. Life seems wider yet close, bigger yet intimate.
That week when I came down the mountain, I became aware that Jesus came down with me and offers me solace in the storm, calm in the calamity. He is with me here, now.
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composed by
dave
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