Up to the Mountain

What is it about mountains that makes my soul feel peace?

My husband and I took a short vacation to Colorado to celebrate our one-year anniversary. We were both exhausted, worn, and in need of fresh air.


Our second day here, I realized that I still struggle with a very deep-set fear of being un-beautiful. This is a fear that I have fought time and time again since my freshman year of high school; usually fear wins. It is hard for me to even admit this because I am strongly feminist in many ways--women are not defined by their outward appearance but by their intelligence, character and motivations; women should be independent and not care about what others think of them; women are valuable because of their contributions to the world and not because they ‘adorn’ the world like so many ornaments on a Christmas tree.

But I do. And I know that no matter how much I desire to be transformed into who Jesus wants me to be, that desire will be hindered by my losing battle with the fear of being physically unacceptable.

The mountains draw this fear out of me and make me confront it.

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Our third day here, we were driving with a dear friend up into the mountains and a song came on the radio. I’m not one to listen to Christian radio (that’s another post for another time), but Jesus dedicated a song to me and I couldn’t resist. The song is called “Beautiful Things” - here is my favorite rendition of it:

Gungor's "Beautiful Things" (Relevant Live Version)

Much later that same day, I went on a walk by myself. The path I was following was paved with sand and fine gravel--bits of dust, really. As I alternately looked down at the ground to watch my feet and again up to the mountains out in the west, I realized that those beautiful mountains--those strong, calming, unexpected, stormy and lofty towers--are made of sand, fine gravel and bits of dust.

The ugly and unnecessary had been swallowed up into relentless Beauty.

And those mountains? Change, movement, and age continue to remake the character of each one.

They are not through yet, and neither am I.