So many different aspects of my life I can relate to what it is like to climb a mountain. It's such a vivid analogy to me right now, that I'm sure I could even equate eating breakfast in the morning to it. But, for this moment, I would like to talk about how drawing nearer to God is like climbing a mountain.

Starting out. I can see the bottom. It's where I'm at. The very bottom. Everybody's ahead of me, nobody's behind me. When I look up, I'm not even sure I can see the top...I just know that it must be up there somewhere. Must be in the fog. Yeah, that's why I can't see it.

If I already know I can't make it to the top in one day, then why should I even bother starting today? I don't have enough energy. Snooze. I'm not good enough at climbing. Excuse. I'll need to get new shoes first. Ruse. I could most likely probably be somewhat just as happy looking at the pictures. Reduce.

Somehow something inside of me starts the "one-two" and I begin the hike. A breeze blows, and I realize this could be kind of nice. I smell the fresh scent of a place I haven't been in a long, long time. Seduce. Why did I think this would be so much work again? News.

After a while, I'm gaining momentum, but decide to take a break. My muscles stiffen up and begin to feel sore. Bruise. I look around me to see if anyone can see I've taken a break. No one is around. That fresh scent of trees that was once so refreshing is now closing in around me and I realize I'm all alone. I didn't realize I would be the only one climbing. I thought I could see so many people ahead of me. Now I see no one. Recloose. Am I willing to do this if no one goes with me?

The break really wasn't a break at all. It made my head spin. Confuse. It was better when I didn't have so much to think about. Where am I going? Which direction is it? And how am I going to get there? Out of the corner of my eye I catch a vision of a stream, so I walk over to absorb its beauty. Instead, I find my feet sinking into the earth as I get closer. I quickly realize that the closer I get, the more I will sink. I reach out my hands and wash them. The water is frigid. It wakes me up from the outside in. I tremble.

I shake. I cast off my baggage. In a moment of clarity, I don't want it weighing me down anymore. I let go. I feel lighter, and energy surges from a place inside me and my legs become stronger. Infuse. I stop looking around and press in for more upward hiking.

Higher.

About halfway up I run out of words. My thoughts become simplified because I am getting short of breath and need to focus on the most important ones. The air is also getting thinner. The distractions begin to fade as each step takes me higher. I am suddenly determined. Suddenly able to focus. Pushing forward. Breathe. No stopping. No going back. I refuse.

With the determination the pain comes back for an encore as if to make sure that I'm really sure this time. It came suddenly out of the dark, out of nowhere. I am blindsided. Abuse. Noose. I stop to analyze and realize I am not alone. I can feel a heaviness like a thick fog around me. It gets closer and quieter and surrounds me in its mist. In the stillness. I rest. Truce.

Break loose. When the fog is gone, I glance over my shoulder and catch a glimpse of the view. I see it but for a moment and then it's gone. Back to the climb I make my face like a flint. The trees begin to diffuse during the last few miles, and I begin to see the footprints as the path narrows...impressions made from the feet of those who have gone before me. They have left messages written in the dirt:

"It's going to be worth it."

Tears light my cheeks like a. Fuse. I press in knowing that I am not alone. My faith increases like the light above me. I'm almost there. Anticipation. Life. Joy.

Produce.

When I get to the top, I realize quickly that I cannot see through the light with my eyes. Surprise. I close them and open the eyes of my heart. An exchange is being made. Beauty for ashes. Joy for sorrow. A garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness. There's a fullness that cannot be contained and I find myself laughing and weeping and singing...right at His feet. I don't want to leave.

an offering--
I bring.

my broken pieces
to the king

I am heard
seen.

A flower
in the
spring

I cling.

"Who may ascend the hill of the LORD ?
Who may stand in his holy place?
He who has clean hands and a pure heart,
who does not lift up his soul to an idol
or swear by what is false.
He will receive blessing from the LORD
and vindication from God his Savior.
Such is the generation of those who seek him,
who seek your face, O God of Jacob."
(Psalm 24:3-6)