A couple years ago while on vacation in New Mexico, we decided to drive up into the Sandia Mountains. The view of Albuquerque and the surrounding areas from the crest was something we had enjoyed on previous trips to the area. However, this trek proved to be quite different than our previous adventures to these mountains.
Our family—my husband, our three children, and I—piled into our car and headed up the mountains, anticipating a pleasant journey that would end in a beautiful view. When we had driven a little more than halfway to the summit, we began noticing snow on the ground. We continued driving at a slow, steady pace, still hoping to reach the top. The snow became thicker, and the drive grew more and more treacherous. Farther up, the road eventually became impassable. Disappointed, we turned around and began heading back down the mountain.
Trying to make the best of our changed plans, we found a spot to park so everyone could play in the snow. Our hands eventually became numb with cold, so we decided to get back into the car to head down the mountain. Along the road, I noticed a little parking spot off to the side with a sign that read, “Great View.”
I said, “Stop! Let’s go check out the view!” My children, still chilled from playing in the snow, decided to stay in the warmth of the car. My husband and I noticed as we began the impromptu hike that there was no path and no other signs pointing us to where this “great view” was. My husband effortlessly hiked just ahead of me, never seeming to struggle up the hill to the mysterious “great view.” I, however, struggled. I slipped a few times on the rocky, steep terrain. The hill ahead looked ominous as I grew out of breath in the high altitude. At one point, I glanced over my shoulder, saw how high I had already climbed, and thought, “If I were to go back now, I would probably roll down the hill!”
My husband, way ahead of me, said, “Are you coming?”
“This was not a good idea!” I hollered back.
He laughed and said, “Keep going! You’re almost there!”
Finally, after a breathless struggle up that hill, I made it. The view WAS great. In fact, it was breathtaking! What a wonderful reward it was after such an arduous climb that had seemed almost impossible. It took great effort—mostly on my part—to earn that great view!
Often, we must struggle through the cares of life if we want to see that “great view.” While traversing our trials and heartaches, we sometimes slip and fall. We feel breathless with exhaustion, and our strength may seem to wane, even as we continue to take one step at a time. We may even question our decisions and think, “This was not a good idea!”
The Bible says in Numbers 13:30, And Caleb stilled the people before Moses, and said, Let us go up at once, and possess it; for we are well able to overcome it. The Hebrew children had an important choice to make. They could listen to the bad report about what awaited them in the Promised Land, or they could listen to Joshua and Caleb, trusting the Lord to make a way.
I am thankful that God has given me a pastor, a leader like Caleb was to the Hebrew children, to encourage, guide, and teach me. Caleb reminded the people to trust God. After all, it was God Who delivered them from bondage, carried them across the Red Sea, and stayed with them in the wilderness. It would be God Who would take them safely into the Promised Land. Even today, this same God is more than able to carry us through the impossible obstacles of life.
It is so easy to see the bad all around us. Yes, the thought of overcoming obstacles can be scary and seem impossible. However, when we are traveling a path where God put us, He will always be ahead, guiding and encouraging us. He will give us the strength we need to continue. We must trust His faithfulness and keep going one step at a time up the hills of life.
When the terrain of our lives becomes steep, rocky, and impossible, we must not look back. Instead, let us look ahead and keep pressing forward, trusting our Guide to get us to the top. After all, the view will certainly be worth the climb!
by Mandy Harper
