My reflection this morning has to do with 2 profound experiences over the past week – one “good profound” and one “not-so-good profound.” And as I’ve pondered them, they appear to be linked by a common thread. Or should be, when rightly considered.
For background, last week I was in Pokhara, Nepal. This medium-sized, very pretty city is surrounded by the Himalayan mountain range – home of Mt. Everest (which is not visible from this location). But for the first few days I was there, I had to take that fact by faith, as it was too cloudy to view them. Every day I would literally pray for a glimpse, and every day, I would scan the horizon for just a peek of the mountains. Besides the Himalayas, Pokhara sits in the valley of a smaller mountain range – which was still big for this middle-of-the-United-States, or west-coast-of-Africa girl. The city’s valley sits at about 4,600 feet. So, every moment that I was outside, I would scan the tops of those smaller mountains, looking for the larger mountains beyond. And finally, on our last day of training, I looked over the mountains, and – there they were, much more beautiful than I imagined, even though it wasn’t a super clear day. But my first thought, as I gazed at those majestic, snow-covered mountains was, “OH!! Up THERE!!” See, I had been scanning the horizon too low. The height of these mountains far surpassed what I was expecting. Glimpsing the peaks of these wonders of God’s creation required looking much higher than where I had been scanning.
Then, one week to the day later, I was having quite a different experience. This was way more of a deep, stony valley than a majestic mountain peak. In the midst of this valley, which included significant health concerns as well as serious financial concerns, the way seemed pretty dark. And this comes on the heels of a plethora of seismic shifts in ministry that have required a deep dive into radical trust. And it seemed that the message in those days – when I could hear it above the noise of fear in my head – was, “Dive deeper.”
It is so very easy to lose sight of truth when you’re diving deep into murky waters. It is disorienting – like trying to walk in a blizzard when you aren’t sure which way is home. So easy to get lost. So easy to forget what you know. So easy to panic and think all is lost.
And in those situations, for some reason, we feel like it will all be better if we find a way to solve the problem. As if we have something meaningful to contribute to a situation that is so far outside of our control that our illusions of control are actually laughable.
So this morning I was reminded of my glimpse of those mountains. The Lord gave me a picture of what I looked like to Him. Kind of like being in a divine art class, where we are asked to craft a mountain range from clay. So you work, and mold, and sculpt, and fashion. And all the while God is sitting by waiting for your creation to be complete. And you just. can’t. get. it. right. You keep trying, changing something here, adding more clay there, and still it isn’t right. He asks if He can help. “No, I’ve got this. I don’t need help. I know what I’m doing.”
Cool. Keep it up…
A little bit later – “Can I help you?” In frustration, not wanting to give up your effort or admit defeat, you glance up, ready with a retort about how you can make the dang mountains just fine, thank you very much, and it’ll be amazing too..! And then your eyes go up some more, and you see the Himalayan peaks. You stop. Mouth open.
“Oh, you made THAT??”
“Yeah. That and a few more just like it. Would you like some help now?”
And with a slicing dose of reality, you realize – my mountain sculpture is never going to equal that. Not in a million years of practice and experience.
So, you hand over the clay to the Master Artist, and BOOM! He turns it into spectacular, magnificent beauty. And you have NO IDEA how He did it.
I spend more time than I should molding clay while sitting in a dark valley, working to make my own mountain range to gaze at. And all the while, the Maker of the Himalayas is asking if He can just do it for me. How utterly ridiculous to say no and continue molding clay. And yet…
I don’t know what valley you might be sitting in today. I don’t even know what valley I’LL be in tomorrow. But I do know that I need to lift my eyes higher. The majesty of the Himalayas is not found low on the horizon. The deepest trust is not found in a shallow snorkeling expedition. We need to dive deep and gaze high. He is higher than any solution we will find. He actually crafted the Himalayas! And we’re trying to meddle around in minuscule problems creating solutions? And our trust needs to run deeper than we can fathom (see what I did there…?).
“Cast your net on the right side of the boat.”
“Dude, we tried that already. What? You think we don’t know how to fish??”
“Well, I just made 3,000 new fish and plopped them on the right side of your boat – but I mean, OK, if you want to sit there with an empty boat… Meanwhile, I kept a few out for the grill and I’ve got breakfast ready when you’ve got time.”
His invitations to trust are often nonsensical to our tiny imaginations. Dive deeper. Then look higher than you thought. You never know what you’ll find.
Diving deep,
Kim
Because deep valleys have been a little bit of a thing for me in the past couple years, I made a playlist of some songs that I listen to when things seem dark. I called it “Deep Valleys.” Here’s a link to it if you’d like to listen while in your own valley. Maybe it will help you lift your eyes. (If you have songs that you go to in deep valleys – please share them with me!)