Mountain Meditation

Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today, yes and forever. Hebrews 13:8


In four years that I lived in Bavaria in the foothills of the Alps, I spent much of my prayer and meditation time walking on a path that took me through the woods and on narrow lanes between cow fields and finally through a small village before I made my way home. It was my daily ritual. From almost any point on that walk I had a view of the local mountains.

Each year I watched the seasons unfold upon the face of those mountains in four stanzas. In the springtime, the forest trees burst into pastel color on the side of the mountains, and then came the greening of the spring leaves in a verdant carpet up the side of the mountains to the top of the tree line.

There were many spring days when clouds covered the craggy faces of the mountaintops. There were other days when the fog was so thick I couldn’t see the mountains, yet I knew they were there. That was a great comfort to me on those days.

Summer brought cloudless indigo skies against the mountaintops and the deepening of the deciduous trees on the mountainside. One of my favorite times of the day to walk was daybreak, when the morning air still carried a dewy chill. I usually began just before the first rays of morning sun lit the peaks in pink flame. As I walked, I watched the sunbeams creep down the side of the mountain until they warmed my way.

Sometimes I walked at twilight and watched the shadows climb the steep faces until at last the mountains were overtaken by darkness. I couldn’t see the mountains, but it was a comfort to me to know they were there in the darkness.

Summer waned and I watched the mountains don the golden vestments of autumn. More and more often I could see my breath as I walked and the dew became frost in the morning. The mountainside grew more gray as the trees shed their leaves. Even the evergreen trees took on a gray hue.

By this time of year I began watching for the first snow to fall on the mountain. At first it looked like a powdered sugar dusting close to the top, then there would be more white as the snowline marched its way down to the tree line and then into the valley. Often in the winter I woke up to snow coming down in big fluffy flakes. On those days, I could not see the mountains, but I knew they were there. It was a great comfort to me.

On other days the sky itself was a white reflection of the mountains beneath it. But for their rocky faces, it was hard to tell where the mountains ended and the sky began. On sunny days, the crisp air sparkled from the mountain snow.

I saw those mountains almost every day I lived in their foothills, and every day they were different, yet always the same. Every day there was a new aspect of those mountains to see. They were always there, even when I could not see them.

The more I thought about it, the more I saw that those mountains were an illustration of my relationship with God. Every day is a new day, with new aspects of God revealed along the way. He never changes I am learning new things about Him every day. He is there on the rainiest and darkest of my life’s days, in the morning and at the twilight of my life. I know He is there even though I cannot see Him, and that is a great comfort to me.

Lord, thank You for being the same yesterday, today and forever, and for being there when I cannot see you. Amen