The Hills and Heaven

I lift my eyes to the hills. Where does my help come from? Not the hills, that’s for sure! But saying that, I often feel closer to God when out in nature, perhaps on hills, and his quiet reassuring voice of peace penetrates deeper there than in the melee of life.

I’ve been thinking about heaven, because I was asked to share some thoughts on what I consider to be ‘divine’ in ordinary life, and as I began to think I realised just how often heaven intersects earth and offers a sneak preview. There are the spectacular intersections which we can visit: I’ve been blessed to see the Grand Canyon and to snorkel on the Great Barrier Reef, and both of those experiences felt like ‘thin places’ where the consummate handiwork of God was visible in its raw form. Then there are the more everyday but still awesome sights of rainbows (I love them!), dramatic clouds and skies, herds of deer on the hills or a dog just let off the lead and running free. But I suppose these are just backdrops for what is really heaven, and that is when relationships are good, when love is visible and when words can be few. 

I lift my eyes to the hills, and remember who made them, and give him my love and my worship.

Head Space

I feel pathetic.

Jesus lived a very communal lifestyle. He travelled with a large group of people. Sometimes he camped out; sometimes he stayed with friends. When people knew he was around, he was mobbed. 

Yet he still set aside time to be alone with his Father. Even if that meant rising before dawn and meeting him in the hills. Even if that meant being out on the hills with him all night long. He knew he needed to create head space so that he could keep alive his relationship with his Father in heaven.

He may have been crowded physically, but he never let himself be crowded mentally / spiritually. He drew boundaries and kept them. He knew what was most important and that was what he did.

I’ve been living with a full house for awhile, and it is set to continue. I’ve watched my quiet times become eroded. I’ve watched that happen. I haven’t succeeded in preventing or circumventing it. Others would understand. I wouldn’t be persecuted if I said I needed an hour on my own with God. There are empty rooms. There are ways to accomplish so simple a task.

And yet very often I don’t. I allow the untidy house to dictate my actions. I live with a Martha mentality rather than a Mary mentality. 

And as I do that, I watch myself sink. I don’t see many instances of the Spirit dictating my attitudes and words – more instances of my own natural, sinful self coming to the fore again.

Lord, help me in this to be more like you. Forgive me for blaming my circumstances for my poor choices and lack of self-discipline. Enable me to walk the talk more day by day.

I don’t want to feel pathetic any more.