Backpacking Lesson

Sitting on a rock in the middle of the South Fork of the Smith River

Surrounded by mountains reaching the sky

Trees pointing ever upward towards their creator

The sound of the water rushing over some rocks and pounding into others,

A deafening roar.

I'm keenly aware that to slip off this rock would likely mean great injury

or death, The water is so strong.

And yet, to be out like this, miles from any telephones, cities, cars...

It's so wonderful.

My Father's voice is so much more distinct.
His power is so evident. Life's purpose seems so clear.
And yet, as I realize how big He is,
I realize how much I don't know, don't understand His limitlessness...

As I pray,
I ask, God is there more you want to tell me?

The next morning, I open my little Bible. He guides my hands to Psalm 147, and whispers,

"[I] delighteth not in the strength of the horse: [I] taketh not pleasure in the legs of a man. [I] taketh pleasure in them that fear [me], in those that hope in [My] mercy." (vs. 10 & 11)

Just think--the God of the universe isn't impressed with the greatness of His mountains, the strength of horses or bears that He's made, or in the abilities of man...I love to climp to the top of a mountain and look down. Sometimes I stop and think, wow, my legs brought me all the way up here! But this is nothing to God. He cares, but only because He cares about me, not because He's so impressed at my strength, which isn't much anyway.

What He takes pleasure in is my awe of Him. What brings Him joy is when I believe in and hope in His mercy! Mercy--is that not what we all want, what we all need, what He freely offers? He says stop trying to do it all in your own strength. Trust me, hope in my mercy. Let me be your Savior.

I sit in thoughful silence for awhile... wow, God. Thanks. Thanks for reminding me what you really want from me--not my strength but my need of and faith in your mercy.