Moving the Mountain Inside of Us!

I have heard the messages most of my life of mountain-moving faith. You may be even more familiar than I am of Jesus’ words in Mark: I assure you and most solemnly say to you, whoever says to this mountain, ‘Be lifted up and thrown into the sea!’ and does not doubt in his heart [in God’s unlimited power], but believes that what he says is going to take place, it will be done for him [in accordance with God’s will].[1]

So the other day, I’m thinking about Jesus’ words here. I’m thinking about the mountains that tested my faith and I saw thrown into the sea. Blaine and I experienced some big mountains in the first five years of our marriage. Only by faith in God and a lot of work, we overcame those relationship obstacles and built a strong marriage. I experienced many challenges with my first pregnancy including an inability to gain weight at first, anemia and preterm labor (which resulted in bedrest) and premature delivery. I delivered our second son full term with a very healthy pregnancy only to begin a fight for his life just five hours after I delivered him. Each time God proved faithful—and the mountain eventually went into the sea!

I’ve always thought about the external mountains—those external forces that reside outside of us. This time as I thought about this verse just this past week, a new question popped into my head. What about the mountains on the inside of us?

We all have stuff. If we didn’t, we wouldn’t be human. We are fearfully and wonderfully made, but our experiences shape us, whether we want them to or not. Those deep hurts and pains can become emotional mountains in our minds. Oh, we try to hide the hurts, to press down the pain, to ignore the wounds and to replace the losses—but they remain. When we least expect it, they come forward, much like a volcanic mountain rises up over time with each small eruption.

So, what do we do? We look to Jesus’ words again and realize that even the mountain inside of you has to move when you speak to it and believe.

One thing I’ve learned is you don’t have to take the mountain alone. Not only do you have Jesus’ word, his promise, but you have all of heaven backing you up—cheering you on. You also have other believers who will stand with you, agree with you and encourage you.

What external mountains are you facing today!  Please share your comments. I’d love to hear from you.

[1] AMP

Advertisements

It’s Time to Welcome the Rain

I am fortunate to have had my maternal grandmother in my life as a child. She was a strong-willed woman with a strong prayer life. I am thankful for the many things I learned as I listened in the hallway to her converse with God.

I was eighteen years old when she died after a battle with breast cancer. There was so much going on in my life, and I struggled deeply to understand how the God, who had always been rain rgbstockthere for me for as long as I could remember, would allow her to die. So many people prayed. So many believed she would beat the cancer. I was angry, and I deliberately shut God out. I knew He was there, but I didn’t want to talk to him. I had so many questions, and He knew I wasn’t ready for the answers.

I am thankful he knows each of us better than we know ourselves. After a difficult season, I began to slowly let Him in. He gave me the answers in a slow, gentle rain over the years rather than a flood I thought I wanted. That’s my nature—to want it all at once, rather than at the capacity in which I can absorb it, which is most beneficial to me.

Just as rain nourishes the ground, God’s presence provides life and growth for the spirit. After a long season, in which the ground has received no rain, it is hard and at first it resists the rain. That is what happened to my heart. I had allowed it to harden. I thought I was protecting myself, but in reality, I was just allowing the ground of my heart to grow more desolate without nourishment from his presence. I eventually discovered when we go without a drink of God’s presence; our hearts can become hard and resistant to his outpourings.

I pray that I will always be open and ready for an outpouring of his presence to quench the thirst my soul desperately need.
Lord, send the rain!