Mountain-us

Blessed is he who expects nothing, for he shall never be disappointed.
Nothing in life is ever as it seems. Where rose gather, poison ivy thrives. Darnel weaves itself between wheat.

I prayed for strength, but instead was made weak, that I may acknowledge my source of mortal vigour.
I prayed for healing, but instead was left ill, that I may share in fullness of His suffering.
I prayed for money, but was given a job, that I may understand that freedom must be earned.
I prayed for holiness, but was left a wretch, that I may always yearn to be like Him.
I prayed for peace, but was given disaster, that I may exercise my faith in trials.
I prayed for love, but the world hated me, that I may understand that love expects nothing.
I prayed for this mountain to sink beneath sea, but was only granted eyes to behold its beauty, legs to climb, hands to cultivate slopes, ears to enjoy the melody of birds and a tongue to savour its pure, sparkling springs of living water.

Then…I prayed only for His grace. It was given onto me ten thousand fold. Only then had I realized how blessed I truly was.
Fact is, we always expect that God should live up to our own expectations. But…do we live up to His?
Disappointment is often the product of misunderstanding. You may have the faith to burst a thousand mustard seeds, but mountains will never shift unless they were designed to. Enter these gates with openness of mind and spirit, walk amongst the reeds and lakeside lilies. Learn the wisdoms of wind and its promise; of how gingerly it sways the stillness of branches; and how leaves choreograph their dances to speak of it. The mountain-tops we long to demolish; these hold the monuments our lives are worth climbing for; sanctuaries born of Eden’s emerald waters; first fruits of knowledge and seeds of purity; swans of grace that seam these waters in webbed fingers of mercy; and creeping vines, in tortuous tentacles dip and rise at the fringes of these streams. What are these features…if not life itself?

But life, you claim, is none but your mountain. Your dreams, you claim, lie beyond the ghastly ridges before you. Sometimes it takes just a little courage…before faith itself is born. For as you stand with mustard seeds in withered palm, believing it would burst and blossom right where and when you’d want it…something deep inside psyche tells you…it won’t. See…there’s a sanctified soil atop these mountains brewed in the very hands of their designer…ground like sand between His fingers; exudate of majestic divinity. Spread to thin paste, sifted through mercy, refined in love…manure black as darkest void, that brings to fullness design through desire. Mustard seeds are made for this soil. So stomach your pride, renounce all burdens, clear you mind…make the journey. You’ll find in its wisdom that all sanctuaries…were once but the tiny mustard seeds of noble men, quite like you and I…ordinary people who dare to climb against trials, to die and lay what’s left of their lives…trusting only that this soil is worth it. The hikers find it; gazing to heaven as heaven touches, their skins, substance of life transfigured as they blink. Nothing touches like sweet heaven touches. And none but the hikers have found their rest here, grazing on pastures of life, thick and lush, or drinking of dew lying lazy amongst the grass, catching sweet melodies of wind as it funnels through slender stalks.

So go ahead, dance your own rhythm, bare your heels, baptise it heaven…knowing that you have conquered these mountains, earned your right to walk His presence. Why then do we plead that mountains be moved, or reduced to rubble for our convenience? Why do we cower in facing the ominous, to make circles round life’s greatest obstacles, thinking it better to stride past it’s sides, fearing death may dominate the climb? But life is found in the deadliest of places, in anguish of war and famine and strife, born of adversities, christened by trial. The problem is that we expect what is trivial, roses we think would sprout without thorns, a host of simplistic solutions, and signposts, at every corner of life, or exists to problems we thought would open wide.
But this…this is where your life begins…when you learn that courage is what climbs mountains, and faith is what does the crowning.