New Mexico Summer

     Christy and I trekked up to her parent’s cabin in Cloudcroft New Mexico to celebrate our 31^st wedding anniversary. We always enjoy coming up to the mountains. The Alpine environs always rejuvenate the body, soul, and spirit. The crisp mountain air clears the mind, giving a new perspective to many seemingly intractable problems. Time slows down a bit. We take a leisurely breakfast on the front porch, listening to the sweet serenade of mountain birds framed by the bass caw of ravens and the rumbly percussion of Humming Birds. Long interludes of calm silence pass; occasionally broken by the rustlly sip of coffee and cappuccino. We luxuriate, breathing the thin mountain air, heavily laden with fragrant pine. As we slow down, we slip into a more unified rhythm. There is something ineffably comforting, about going up to the mountains.

     We find this in scripture as well. Old Testament writers frequently refer to “going up.”

Noah, Abraham, Moses, David, Elijah, Elisha, and others went up at key points in their spiritual walk. Jesus often went up; alone, with the Apostles, in small groups, and assembled masses. There is something spiritual about going up, which I find odd since scripture reminds us that we find God everywhere. As Jonah and other prophets found, you cannot hide from God. So why do we find such spiritual uplift during physical uplift. Standing on the Western Slope, gazing out across the Tularosa Basin provides some clarity and insight.

     At the southern end of the basin white sand gleams in the hot summer sun. Minerals washed out of the mountains by annual spring rains crystalize in the hot glare. Wind sweeping down out of the mountains breaks up the fragile formations turning them into wind-born sand, which collects in the formation we call, White Sands National Monument. On clear days the rippling dunes shine in the sun as one looks down from the high vantage point.

     At some point in the past, this region endured a period of seismic activity. It appears that the mountains split apart and as they spread out the land sagged, forming a great basin. During this turbulent time, lava welled up out of subterranean reservoirs, creating a vast magma flow instead of a new mountain. Indians of the past treated the rugged black rock with some level of caution. Perhaps they witnessed the destructive power of molten rock spewing out across the ground. Today, we wander around the jagged rocks, gawping at the rugged mass which still lies where it cooled. Most days in these lower regions a gossamer haze renders the sky a dull blue gray. Climb the hills to the east or west and elevation transfigures the view.

     From an elevated vantage point the view changes. Dust no longer fills the sky. Cleared of impediments the sky arches over you and a vivid cobalt blue. From the ground you often cannot see across the Tularosa Basin, but from on high the distant peaks of the other side appear in finely etched detail. You can see the ground hugging haze as a long fuzzy, dusty worm stretching out in the bright noon sun. Elevation, temperature, and thin atmosphere combine to provide a clarity frequently missing at lower elevations. In some ways, the physical reflects spiritual reality.

     When we pack for our trip to the mountains we pack lightly, only taking those things we deem necessary to the journey. A few clothes, a couple of tomes that I’m working on, a camera, a computer, and some food complete the list. Why bother taking things we either do not need or will not use. We know that at our destination we will find all the things necessary to our comfort and pleasure. Christy’s family maintains a well-appointed cabin. A few minutes with a small valise and I’m ready for the trip. In a side note, evidently we all consider coffee quite important. I counted six, no seven, different containers of coffee; several unopened, to which I added yet another. The point is, we travel light in order to come to the mountains.

     Spiritually speaking, our entanglement with the world below hinders our spiritual sight. We cannot expect to enjoy “mountain-top” experiences while weighed down with the things of this world. Only when we divest ourselves of unnecessary baggage can we expect to enjoy the rarified air of the mountaintop. Jesus dealt with this problem repeatedly. Often when people, hopeful disciples, came to Him, He encouraged divestment. The Rich-Young-Ruler is only one example of many who grappled with this concept. In our acquisition driven, keep-up-with-the-Jones, society we live to larder ourselves with a wide variety of baggage, trappings of twenty-first century America. These things weigh us down, thwarting our journey to the top. I’m no exception. While here, I purchased two new hats and added them to the two I brought with me. Christy and I laughed at my “collection” of hats here in Cloudcroft. If I had four heads, perhaps… Stuff accumulates and impedes our spiritual walk.

     Then there is the dusty haze of cares and concerns. In recent weeks and months Christy and I have dealt with a serious problem. While not threatening to our relationship with each other or the Lord, it did consume considerable emotional and mental energy. Often it seemed to block our view of, or communion with, the Lord. Martha grappled with this problem. Often the cares and worries of this life impinge upon our walk with the Lord. We need to set aside our burdens and go up to the mountain; if not physically at least spiritually. Jesus took time to get away with His apostles, away from the maddening crush of the crowds demanding attention and ministry. This does not mean that we discard important concerns willy-nilly. Christy and I still face the same problem; however, for a period it recedes into obscurity while the Lord helps us with some much needed perspective.

     From the mountain, we see things differently. Down in the valley I see but a few miles in any direction; in Lubbock only a couple of blocks. Going up to the mountain changes my viewpoint. Instead of only a few miles, now I see in tens, twenties, and on a clear day more. As I grow in my walk with the Lord, I gain some small portion of His point of view. Some things which seem gross and extensive in the valley shrink into insignificance when viewed from a higher elevation. In order to enjoy the mountain-top I must willingly accept the fact that what I consider important may be just a small inconvenience when viewed from a perspective closer to the Lord’s. Paul refers to this in II Corinthians when he speaks of this, “light momentary affliction…preparing us for an eternal weight of glory beyond all comprehension.” He understood the transitory nature of the cares of the world. When I stand on a mountain-top, spiritually speaking, I get a glimpse of the true nature of things, a more Godly perspective if you will.

     So in order to ascend, I must be willing to let go of things; physical, emotional and spiritual. When I do so, God will transport me to a fuller understanding of spiritual matters, letting me gaze, at least for a few moments, on the world from His perspective. Of course, I must return to the day-to-day world, but with a reinvigorated spirit and a new, perhaps more accurate, view of things. And even though I often exist in the valley, the memories of the view from the mountain-top remain crystalline and clear etched in my memory.