Mountain Trailways

I have always loved the hills & mountains. If I have a hobby or tradition, aside from reading, it is my weekly “prayer hike.” Whether navigating the trails & terrain of the Kennesaw Mountain area (where I live), trailblazing near the “Interpreter’s House,” adventuring through the foothills of the Appalachians (GA/NC) or the mists of the Great Smokey’s (TN); I find strength for my soul on mountain trailways.

The Psalmist said, “I will lift my eyes unto the hills—Where does my help come from?...My help comes from the Lord, the Maker of Heaven & earth”-Ps.121:1-2. The Message says, “I look up to the mountains…my strength comes from God.” This song of ascents captures my sentiments exactly. “The person set on the way of faith gets into trouble, looks around for help,” & asks the question of the source of strength? “Is there anything more inspiring than the magnificent scenery of a ridge of mountains silhouetted against the sky? Does any part of this earth promise more of majesty & strength, of firmness & solidity, than the mountains? …But a Hebrew (& Christian) should…would see something else…the Lord who made it all” (E.Peterson).

While hiking, I usually memorize scriptures, sing hymns & meditate on truths from those & great literature. I usually pause every hour to read reflectively, stretch & figure out some memory keys for reciting & developing the ideas in the passages I’m focused on. This practice combines with the prayer, hiking, wildlife & beautiful views to produces an awesome experience of challenge & renewal for my Spirit, soul & body. However, the purpose of it all is a passionate pursuit of the heart of the Living God…to experience HIS presence & perspectives. By far, my favorite hiking poem is “Hills.”

HILLS

I NEVER loved your plains!--
Your gentle valleys,
Your drowsy country lanes
And pleachéd alleys.

I want my hills! -- the trail
That scorns the hollow.--
Up, up the ragged shale
Where few will follow,


Up, over wooded crest
And mossy boulder
With strong thigh, heaving chest,
And swinging shoulder,

So let me hold my way,
By nothing halted,
Until, at close of day,
I stand, exalted,


High on my hills of dream--
Dear hills that know me!
And then, how fair will seem
The lands below me,

How pure, at vesper-time,
The far bells chiming!
God, give me hills to climb,
And strength for climbing!

-by Arthur Guiterman