The City is Calling

Standing at the top, I easily let the feeling of accomplishment wash over me as the wind dances wildly through my hair and my heartbeat pulsates from the steep elevation.  Standing at the top, it’s easy to look down at the journey I’ve just taken, up the long, rocky trails through pastures and acres of land.  And for a second, I can just take in this moment and be happy.

Of course, it’s only for a second.  Then my mind starts to wander about the journey I’ve just taken and how hypocritical I’ve been.

Spending a week in Derbyshire for a conference with my fellow YAGMs, we were given the opportunity to go on a hike led by one of the professors leading lectures.  We set off in the morning, and I loved falling behind at the back of the pack – camera in hand - as I looked through my lens attempting to capture the beauty the Artist created.  I focused and I gave thanks, over and over again zooming in clarity and clicking the shutter. 

Thinking from the top, not once on the journey up did I ever falter or doubt.  I trusted blindly in the professor and expected to complete the hike safe through his guidance.  I did not know where I was, what trail to take, or what would happen when I reached the top.  All I did was continue to move forward, one foot in front of the other, camera in hand, in perfect harmony with the movement of the wind and the people in front of me. 

The hypocrisy lies in the contrast in which I trust in God.  Here walking up this unknown mountain, I could trust in our guide and enjoy while giving thanks to God.  Yet every day in my unknown climb through this mountain called life, I doubt and I worry and I falter.  Every day I forget, and every day I must remind myself that it is not about a guide but The Guide leading me, as I put one foot in front of the other.

Mountain hikes have always held significant meaning in my heart, and I know I will always think of this particular journey as the important reminder of ultimate trust.  

This week was one of rejuvenation, of growing friendship and intellectual conversation.  It was also an easy week, living in the comfort of a college where my meals were prepared for me and the dishes were cleaned behind common eyesight view.  I was taken cared for by the staff, and only had to follow the schedule given to me (once again, just blindly trusting without given thought).  As I return to London, hesitation comes naturally to the known hardships corresponding with the true aspects of simple living, but I remind myself to trust in God as I put one foot in front of the other.  I must continue to move forward, on the narrow path leading me on.

The mountains speak their ever powerful voice in the structural awe in which they’ve been created.  But I cannot stay. My real mountain this year lies in the city; in my budgeted spending, classroom planning, ceiling leaking hike, in the true, hard beauty in the eyes of the Artist.   

So I pack my bags.  The city is calling, and I must go.