I close my eyes and I can still see it.
Endless Mountain peeks scraping a flawless blue sky, crystal streams flowing over rock after rock in the deep valleys that carve their way to the horizon.
I can hear the birds, too many to count. I can feel the stillness, as rare as it is calming. I breath in deeply for a moment as the breeze runs accross my face and remember a beautiful truth.
Someone made this.
There is one who called the mountains to their heights and spoke the valleys to their depths.
With just a whisper He caused the rivers to flow, a mere thought and birds burst into existence. There in the stillness, before the beginning, He breathed out life and my heart started beating.
Standing in the shadow of the Drakensberg mountains with nothing but a backpack, a river to follow and the hope of a cave to spend the night has a way of putting things into perspective.
Staring up at the blatant perfection that God alone inspires, I found myself overwhelmed by an appropriate smallness, humbled and in awe I was reminded…
There is a God, I am not Him.
I forget this. Confusing the temporary with the eternal, I invest what little life I have in things of little consequence.
I get caught up in the “grandeur of me” until, in a moment of aweful, wonderful clarity I come to the end of myself.
There, in that moment, I have a choice.
More of me or more of Him.
The one who called me into existence at the first calls me still. He invites me to lose my life and find it. To consider the stars, marvel at a sunset, tremble at the lightning and whisper in wonder,”Who am I that you are mindful of me?”
There in that place, where He is God and I am not, I am most fully myself, I am most fully alive.