from above, from below. [ramblings, but bear with me]

First photo: the Mountains. To be honest, I can't tell you their names, or their elevations. Only that this viewpoint is off of the Kancamangus Highway, "up north" in New Hampshire. The sun is setting, you can see a few trees vaguely in the foreground. This is a view from the top. From there I stood at eye level with these mountains, as the sun fell back and dipped low behind them. Light melted away and color leaked out from the clouds, between the peaks in the valleys. 

God speaks to us in various ways. A lot of my friends can hear a voice, or receive words and pictures. 

I think I most clearly see and hear from God through creation, things like sunsets and oceans and mountains. Our first night of camping, it had rained all day- and I was really really grumpy. Right (before? after?) dinner, the rain let up and the sky started glowing, I guess, and you could tell that there was some sort of sunset. So I sought some repose and solitude, hoping to gather a lighter heart. I roamed away from our site and down to the river. I can't explain so here's the picture I took:

 This.

This rushing river and this soft pink sky. Without such clear words, God spoke. Saying all these things I needed to hear, but in this image. He conjured up this sky and this place, every surrounding. And in that moment it was such a clear understanding that God is enough. That God is good and good to me, the least deserving. That even in my so human mood and mindset, he put this image straight into my heart. 

Back to the second image: a photo of my view straight up from laying in my hammock. It's pretty, because the blue sky came out and the trees are turning green. But the juxtaposition of the first and second photos is so neat to me. (I wasn't intending on writing this blog post, I just added the two photos to a blank template and thought, huh that's noteworthy). 

I think so often we want the first view, from the top. We want to look out and see the rise and fall, the hills and the valleys, where they are, when and where they begin and end. So that somehow, we can be  prepared and trudge forward with a bit of confidence, or so we can brace ourselves. 

However, in reality, we live as the second image depicts. We are laying helpless in our hammocks, or wandering around with no view but up. This feels helpless. But what a glorious posture: to only be able to look up to the Father, helpless, and ask for help. I think of little kids, toddling around and looking up for a parent to say "up!" 

And sometimes, God brings you up. Sometimes he plops you on top of a mountain, or at the top of a waterfall, or right at a sweet pull off, an hour before sunset. But God will also guide you into valleys, dark and deep. But he is with us. And he is for us. 

 Sometimes, he will pull you down to the river, just so you can hear the deafening roar of the water, and see the glorious colors above you. Whether you are above or below, He is always showing us his glory, his power. 

Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for You are with me. (shout out to 8th grade confirmation class memorization)