On That Mountain
There’s a place by a creek, beside mountains, surrounded by trees, that holds footprints of my children and echos of their voices. This place knows the sounds of our family’s laughter. But to those waters and trees, mountains and rocks — time means nothing. They embrace what they have been given but, they measure not the number of sunrises or sunsets they’ve witnessed.
I know these created things have no mind or soul, they have no emotion. And yet — in the hands of the Holy One, the created inanimate objects are still able to t-e-a-c-h.
There are big words that could be used here to describe the theological value found in observing creation and finding instruction in the rhythms of its existence. But if you know me, you know I prefer kindergarten simplicity. Heady, big words might speak of textbook knowledge, but they rarely (if ever) convey the love and staggering beauty found in a life-lived-well.
So I continually go back to the creek…beside the mountains…surrounded by trees. It speaks under blue skies and proves its endurance and perseverance. It has weathered storms and blights, tree falls and humans.
Last week I played there with the second generation of rock tossing, salamander searchers. I sat on the same sandy shoreline I’ve sat on for over half my life, and added more pebbles to the high rocky ledges that still hold tiny stones tossed there by the chubby fingers of my children long ago. That place in the mountains plays the same tune in my ears it has always played. It’s the sound of playful waters, breezes in tree limbs, a symphony of bird songs, laughter from happy children, and the “k-thunk” sound of stones being tossed into deep water. The sun visits and warms that sandy shore — faithfully. The rains wash it effortlessly. The animals roam freely and the flowers bloom eagerly. And all of it happens without one bit of help from anyone. It doesn’t need us. It doesn’t need me. It is autonomously accomplishing what it was created to do. It worships. In its simplicity it worships. Faithfully
That speaks.
It preaches.
It flows from Holy Pages in innumerable ways.
Creation will do that for us because the Creator has laced HIMSELF into the heartbeat of all that does or does not have a heart. If He created it, it beats of His essence. Isn’t that an amazing thought — that God does not need a heart in order to produce the steady-beat of life. For the creek waters have no heartbeat, neither the trees nor the skies possess a heart — and yet they carry within their existence the heartbeat of the One who made them — and they faithfully reflect a persevering strength that far outdoes most people walking with hearts beating and lungs breathing.
And I’ve come to the conclusion that the problem with us people is the result of a four-letter-word— that begins with “s” and ends with “f”. Self.
John nailed it so beautifully when he wrote, "He must increase, but I must decrease." (John 3:30) Think of the creek by the mountains surrounded by trees. It exists so beautifully because it is not existing for itself. It is not existing to impress the next creek over beside the bigger mountain. It is what it was created to be…and that is stunningly gorgeous.
When I sit by that beautiful creek, I do not applaud the creek — instead, its beauty compels me to look to and think of the One who created it.
It should be the same for us people. We should decrease even as we are seen by those who encounter us. We should decrease as the One who created us increases. The way we live and breath, speak and pray, focus and work, serve and give — it should be done in such a way that those around us see us only in their peripheral vision as they look past us and on to the One who created us, who created them. For we are to be only a mere reflection of the One whose image we bear. We are image-bearers. We are not image-makers.
The creek by the mountain surrounded by trees does not attempt to influence me to become a creek or a mountain or a tree. It invites me into a rest that draws my soul back to the Creator. It draws me towards the beauty of what the Creator does in and through His creation. And in this way — the creek by the mountain surrounded by trees bows to the words spoken by John — that He must increase and I must decrease. — For the creek decreases even as the Creator increases. It all happens softly and powerfully. The Creator feeds His daughter, me, through the obedient work of His creation. He is lifted up. My eyes are lifted up. There is no struggle or strife, no division or comparison — it’s simply clean and clear — look UP. Rest beside me, says the creek, and in the rest you’ll breathe in more of God and less of all else.
He, God, must increase.
We want to see more of Him, hear more of Him, feel more of His presence, and grow stronger in His ways. We reach for more of Jesus. We want less of ourselves, our thoughts, our flesh-ways, our hindrances, our weaknesses.
The creek, mountain, trees — they do it so well. In their gentle beauty, they compel us to reach for the One who creates such beauty. I do not crave the creek. Instead, I long for more of the One who created it.
Creation speaks of the Holy One. His goodness shows as it obediently and eagerly does what it was created to do. The creek would never consider taking credit for it cool waters. The tree would never applaud itself for the shade it offers. The clouds would never pat themselves on the back for giving rain to the thirsty ground below them. The rock would never boast on its strength.
We, the soul carrying image bearers, we have a struggle inside us — the struggle of s-e-l-f trying to rise up and think it matters more than it actually does.
We matter only because HE chose to create us.
We matter only because HE chooses to love us.
We matter only because He allows us to worship HIM.
We matter to His heart.
We matter because of Him.
We matter in His hands.
We matter to HIM.
HE creates.
HE loves.
HE is worshipped.
HE holds us in His heart.
HE is all that is good.
HE carries us.
HE matters.
The rocks will cry it out if we do not. They are ever poised and ready. But for now the birds sing it while the waters and winds whisper it, and the mountains carry the echo —
Holy, Holy, Holy is the Lord God Almighty.
The whole earth is filled with His glory.
