Three Stones up a Mountain

I'm sure we've all felt stretched at one point or another, just stressed by the everyday-life things, or by circumstances that seem too huge to battle. Most people with pride like mine come up with a variety of not-so-good solutions...I put my head down and push through. I tell myself I can do it and I carry on like nothing is wrong. I carry the load, and finally, inevitably, I crumble under the weight and fall. This has been my story these last few weeks, maybe even longer, and this time I decided to try a different approach.

I carried three stones up a mountain. One was jagged, and probably would've cut me had I stepped on it in bare feet...Lots of sharp edges. One was big and heavy, cumbersome to carry. And one really had no defining characteristics...Just a rock, not exceptionally big or small, but like all stones, it added weight and it would have been my preference not to have it along with me. I know they weren't that big, but they seemed big to me...Annoying I guess, just because of how long I'd been dealing with their presence.

I had tried and tried to rid myself of them before. I put them behind the shed or in the garden, thinking I could hide them or make them pretty. Even if they looked nice in the garden, there they were. Rocks. And even if I couldn't see them behind the shed, they were there anyways, waiting for the lawnmower to come and throw them closer to the house, or to dull the blade up. No matter what, they were there.

So I packed my three stones into my backpack, along with water and a few granola bars, and I started my ascent. It's easy at first, when you've got a lot of energy. You can skip and run and smile about the trip, like it's not going to hurt. I didn't notice how heavy my cargo was at first, either. No sweat! Of course the climbing gets harder after a while, and you meet obstacles and unexpected terrain...The surprise this day was snow and ice - something I hadn't considered a possibility in mid-May. So the boots that are great for gripping rocks are NOT so great for gripping great big blocks of ice. I grabbed onto the trees on the side of the trail, praying the branches wouldn't snap, and every so often I'd slip anyways.

I thought about those stones on the way up...What they meant to me. Those stones were my burdens, those things in my life that were too heavy to deal with on my own. Some burdens were small and jagged, some big and heavy, some unremarkable. I probably should have put a boulder in there, just for the drama...I surely feel at times like there's a boulder in my life I can't move or rid myself of. I told God about what I was carrying. I told Him about each stone, and what it represented. And I told Him that I was bringing those stones to Him, so I could leave them with Him at the top of the mountain.

There's something about high places that makes me feel free. There's no car noise, no cell phones, nothing to distract. And maybe I feel closer to God there because of that. I know it's kind of an illusion, and I know that mountaintops are not a must for doing business with God, but the Lord gave me the privilege and the time for actually carrying my stones up a real mountain. I did reach the top, and I had a panoramic view of the mountains surrounding the one I was on. I saw smaller mountains, easier ones to climb, and there were the big ones that looked like they'd be impossible to get up.

I took my three stones out of my backpack and set them on the summit, and I told my Lord that I was leaving them there with Him to do with as He pleased. It wasn't easy to bring Him those burdens and I had to swallow my pride to admit my inability to deal with them on my own. I told Him that I didn't know what to do with them, and that they were consuming me. Oddly enough, I found it difficult to walk away, like I needed to stay and continue reminding God of them. I guess in my humanity I think myself to be God's alarm, the one who tells Him what to do and how to do it, and so I wanted to keep my burdens company and keep telling God about how great I was to leave them with Him...And tell Him to dispose of them my way. But I did walk away. I left them up there to be worn by the elements, or to be picked up by other people and thrown over the edge of the cliffs. Who knows. The point is, I have no idea what will come of them.

Before I started down the mountain, I picked up a stone...Not one of the ones I had brought. I put in it my pocket to carry down with me, as a reminder. Seems stupid, I guess...Carry three stones up and bring one down. Why not just take two up and call it even? But I want to remember where my burdens are, that they're on top of a high place, given away to the God that made the majesty of those mountains.

The descent was even harder than the climb up...A sled would've been nice. I stumbled down the mountain, tired and hungry and ready for rest, but satisfied with the exchange I had made on the top. One mediocre meal and a five-hour drive later I was home, all showered and under the covers in my bed, praying that I would remember the next morning where my burdens were and that I wouldn't allow them to consume me again. My burdens are not on a mountaintop...They are at the feet of my God. And when I think of them, which will happen, I will respond with the truth, that they are at the feet of Christ, and that it is He who will decide what happens to them. I know there will be more burdens, but I also know that the God who I left these burdens with isn't just in the high peaks. He's here with me, waiting to bare my load if only I will surrender it.