God of the Mountains

 

Psalm 95:4

….   In his hand are the depths of the earth, and the mountain peaks belong to him.   The sea is his, for he made it, and his hands formed the dry land.   Come, let us bow down in worship, let us kneel before the LORD our Maker…..

 

            I was thinking today about Mexico, where we served for a dozen years or so. And I was recalling the sights and sounds and tastes and smells of that wonderful place that God had allowed us to see over the years.

            Always, in the back of my mind those years were the mountains. The great Sierra Madre Mountains stretch from north to south and divide Mexico in half. Year after year I would gaze at the tops and think to myself, ‘Next year.’

            As only God would do, He saved that experience for the last trip I made to Mexico. On that trip we loaded a 4 wheel drive truck for the express purpose of going to the top, and after 12 hours we covered the ten miles to the top. Crossing the pasa de muerta we finally made it to the top. At least as far as the road went. Then we hiked to the top. And the view was awesome. But the most beautiful part of that mountain top experience was at our feet. There, perched atop a mountain where man may never ever have trod was the most beautiful pin cushion cactus I ever saw. It was so very delicate, and so out of place in that harsh environment. But it was a word from the Lord saying, “Here is my crown, which I fashioned for myself, and placed here on top of my creation.. Enjoy. Wow!

            And as Jeff and I came down to the village where we left the truck one of the villagers asked if we would like to see a cave. “Up here?” we asked. And he did.

            We dropped into a cave nearby and there, hundreds of feet below the surface, was a flower, fossilized and preserved forever in a dried up underground stream bed as old as time itself. Here the Lord showed me the 95^th psalm…,,

…  In his hand are the depths of the earth, and the mountain peaks belong to him.  The sea is his, for he made it, and his hands formed the dry land.   Come, let us bow down in worship, let us kneel before the LORD our Maker;  for he is our God and we are the people of his pasture, the flock under his care.

   On our way back down the mountain we once again crossed the ‘pasa de muerta’. That means, in Spanish, passage of death. It is so named for the narrowness of the road and the sheer drop of the cliff it clung to. Jeff and I had passed over the valley of death twice and seen all that God had for us. We are twice blessed men.