We are surrounded by mountains, sacred mountains, which watch over us, beckon us, call us to approach and begin the journey.
Mountaineering is a risky venture and exhausting, but our mountains are accessible. Every day we meet them and their magic tells us: just stop, just turn aside here for a few moments, let me lift you to the sacred place.
There are no gates or barriers. These mountains don’t close after sunset. They just lie in wait, offering a quiet space, inviting us to a new view. Even with the greatest disabilities, the frailest limbs, the faintest heart, there is a place for us. No one is too big or small. No one is unworthy.
Touch the mountain and we touch the earth, we touch the universe, we touch God. Just to say we are coming is more than half the journey. It is to say we belong, to enter the wide embrace of the mountainside, and to say, yes, to love.
There is a mountain stream for the thirsty and its waters are there for cleansing. There is peace and forgiveness and renewal. The wind of the Spirit sometimes blows strongly, challenging us to stand firm, or gently touches us with memories of God’s goodness.
Climb the mountain and you see a long way. People you have not noticed. Distant needs which want to say also: “I am here”. And in the silence of the sacred space are voices of hope, of joy, of pain, of possibility. Climb the mountain and you will see Jesus.
But most roads run past the mountain and hurry away to noise and distraction. Mountains become incidental scenery to be forgotten or photo-shots for two dimensional living. The mountains come and go, hiding in the clouds, emerging to ask again, always patient and knowing, always there for you and me.