The lad struggled to achieve his footing as he pawed the rocky ledge beneath. He strained with all his force until his hands pulled and jerked upwards, bringing his body to safety atop the highest pinnacle. He breathed a jagged breath of fresh air and surveyed the unending terrain. He had tasted the nectar of the gods; he had defeated the mountain.
Coming from the hills and crags of West Virginia, mountains remain an intrinsic part of my existence. Everywhere one looks, green spreads of conifers and rolling hills of limestone stare back at us, the forest invaders. In the tranquil landscape surrounding my birthplace, war has not yet begun, but even now the haunting death wail of the forest echos faintly through the trees. Where once roads of dirt and holes danced with the mountains, twisting and frolicking up and down, interstates now enact a steady death march through the land. Tunnels bear witness to mortal wounds thrust upon the ancient wrinkled beasts of stone. Man’s conquest starts now.
From the earliest of memories, children have a liking for conquest. They must subdue the monkey bars, dominate the slide, and ride the dog like a veteran charger. Unfathomable numbers of bruises and bumps bear witness to child’s play as little ones attempt to climb hills, scale trees, and vault across creeks. Every object larger then themselves retains a mystery one must solve by thrusting it under the reign of spindly, under-developed limbs. Adults laugh or sigh, wondering whenever they will lose their sense of indomitable boldness, learning limitations and common sense.
Yet this courageous attitude does not diminish in most adults; rather it presents itself in other ways. From the dawn of creation, grown man has attempted to subdue the wilderness, to tame the west, to span the gorges and bring the heights under his authority. One only has to look at the numbers of hikers’ attempts to scale Mount Everest to know that intrinsically, man has always possessed a distaste for things outside his experience: physically, emotionally, or spiritually speaking. The existence of nations speaks for itself, as the Bible records man’s futile attempt to rival mountains at Babel to claim rule of the heavens.
From ancient civilization until now, ziggurats to sky scrapers, man’s competition with mountains has lasted for centuries, yet never has a treaty ever surfaced. For try as they might, the mountains remain strong and proud, ancient warriors refusing to bow down, even before the conquering warlord’s axe. We as humans however, complain about these noble beasts. We try to explode them, break them, chop them in two, but never see the beauty and use within these noble pillars to protect, shield and empower.
We complain about the mountains in our lives too, asking God why time and time again they must rear their monstrous heads in our lives, destroying our dreams of conquering the latest checkpoint on our corporate ladder of success. We battle them, defame them, and try to choke their last breath, but never once do we wonder why they still tower over our paltry forms.
Will we ever see the beauty in the mountains? Will we ever appreciate the endurance and character they build within our lives? Unless we learn to flow with the mountains, walking along the sometimes steep and treacherous path God has delineated, will we ever fully know His purpose for our lives? For these mountains, just like those faithful friends to my own birthplace who have shielded our valley from enemies, tornadoes and storms, can act like a buffer to the enemy in our own lives, testing us and preparing us for worse storms; providing boundaries God uses to keep our lives in harmonious peace and giving us vision to see the Prometheus within the most dismal, rocky of circumstances.
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