My First Mountain

Posted on November 12, 2008 12:00 AM MST by Sara Richardson

“The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full.”
John 10:10

I was a gangly fourteen-year-old when I climbed my first mountain. Mount Huron, one of Colorado’s “fourteeners.” (That’s what we Coloradans call our majestic peaks that rise over 14,000 feet.) Climbing a mountain wasn’t really something I wanted to do. I was on a backing trip with my youth group and our guides woke us up in the middle of the night, told us to bundle up, get our water and our flashlights, and meet them in the center of our camp. We did, grumbling the whole way. The grumbles turned into passionate protests when they explained that we were going to climb a mountain. In the dark.

It had already been a rough day. We’d crossed two ridges, and my muscles were sore. Earlier that day, on a particularly rocky section of the ridge, my hiking boot had broken. The sole had ripped right off, so all I had left were my cool high-top tennis shoes. With terrible traction.

Though I pleaded my case, our guides didn’t back down. They basically told me to go or be left behind. Alone. With the bears. Since that really wasn’t my idea of a good time either, I started out with the rest of the group.

I’ve never felt the same fatigue that I felt that night. My legs hurt, my head hurt, my eyes hurt. I had to navigate each step carefully because all that guided my feet was the circular glow of my small flashlight. As we started through a boulder field about three-fourths of the way through our journey, I dropped my flashlight and my world went dark.  I sat down on a cold, hard rock and cried. It was too hard. It hurt too much. I was too scared. I wanted to give up.  But I didn’t. After a while, Iprayed, I picked myself up, and I continued the journey—albeit very slowly—until I’d reached the top.

I’ve come to the conclusion that our fullest moments in life usually come after a long, arduous struggle. All the way up that mountain, I’d carried resentment and fear. I couldn’t see where we were going, what we were headed toward. But, when I clawed my way up the last section of the rocky peak right as the sunrise painted a brilliant array of colors across the sky, all of those burdens disappeared. I only felt free.

Now, when I think of living life to the fullest, I always remember how I felt standing on the peak of Mount Huron. I’ve climbed many mountains since then—literally and figuratively. And after I conquer each one, I know exactly what Jesus was talking about  in John 10:10. Life to the full—the life that He promises—is a life of both surrender and freedom. If you surrender to His will and walk through the rough spots, if you persevere, if you hold on to Him tight , you will most assuredly experience His sovereignty on the mountaintop.

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