Mountain People

I lift up my eyes unto the hills, and where does my help come from? My help comes from the Lord, maker of heaven and earth.

My family are mountain people. What I mean is, every time we had a school holiday growing up, we packed up the gray Toyota Corolla and headed for the hills, to middle or east Tennessee, where we could hike and camp and raft to our hearts’ content.

About an hour out of Bulawayo, there is a place called Matopos. It’s nothing like the moss-covered mountains or sloping streams or magnificent waterfalls I grew up going to. Instead of bears, Matopos has leopards.  Instead of grass, Matopos has shear rock, smashed together in the most extraordinary of fashions. Still, I feel so at home climbing to the place locals call World’s View.

From there, you can see miles in every direction, nothing but bush-land and millions of rock formations. From there, my own concerns and issues seem so miniscule in comparison to what my God has done, can do, and is doing at the very moment.

It’s not a new concept. It’s not even a deep notion. It is but a gentle reminder of who we serve and exactly how big, powerful, and loving He is.

ImageWhen I lift my eyes to the hills, no matter what set of hills it is or where it might be located, I lift my eyes to see a world fashioned by a loving Creator, a God who is so big, so strong, and so mighty that there is nothing He cannot do.

One thought on “Mountain People

  1. I can’t even imagine the beauties of your world. My world is so small compared to what you have seen. I don’t seem to have the words to express myself adequately. I want to find ways to help more.

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