Moving through mountains and cities


"Moving through mountains and cities" is more akin to a Psalm than a how to passage. I hope you enjoy it, are encouraged by it, and long to know God more today through it. 


Moving through mountains and cities

As we moved through the Gorge, my senses took full delight in the choir of the moonlit mountains lightly mantled with snow. Their majesty shouted praise without words as they stood firmly knowing who they were, not concerned with being anything else. Their worship directed to the One who gave them a part of His own Majesty.

Majesty for Him. For them. For us.

Majesty to Him. To them. To us.

But as we neared the city, the holy black hills softly covered in glowing white bliss became rather dim. Yet, they had not changed. They continued to sing. Instead, I felt my own senses gradually being dulled, distracted, and submerged by another choir. This one was not like the former.

Soon, the landscape was flooded with advertisements on signs and billboards, each screaming in broken tones with unrhythmic and anxious lights, fonts, and poorly printed colors. They gushed with empty promises of a life they clearly did not know themselves. The busyness of such an unorganized constant movement of people and cars and blinking bulbs no longer made it possible to see the majestic ones. The flow of delight I once experienced had become jammed and clogged and dam-ed by this mess of distressed disunity.

No doubt, the mountains were still there, but no level of fight to see them changed my ability to participate in the great dance with them. They’d become hidden behind a film of manufactured light.

But they did not worry.

Unlike the mountains, the city boasted of its greatness, refusing to embrace Majesty.

But the mountains did not worry.

Having tasted Majesty, I had no interest in the distraction of the false glory this city offered. I longed to be in the mountain’s company again. I longed for the holy darkness and glorious light as praise of being rose unendingly from every atom of their form.

But the mountains did not worry.

So patiently, I waited. Allowing myself to be convinced by the soft whisper of the mountains being carried by the wind. The whisper that said I need not worry.

Each time a sign grabbed my attention, immediately I longed for the True. Each time I wondered if I’d join the mountains again, I longed for the True. Each time the busyness caught hold of me, I longed for the True.

And then, without any effort, we had moved through the city. And again I found myself in the midst of the majestic choir. Their song had not changed simply because I could not hear it. Their welcome had not changed simply because I had become distracted. And most certainly, the One they sung to had not worried simply because I could not see Him.

Nate K