The God of the Mountains

 June 7th, 2023

Today I began to read "An Altar in the World" by one of my favorite authors and pastors, Barbara Brown Taylor. Taylor illustrates the divine in the ordinary, and the sacred in the mundane. Her narrative talks about everyday practices and rituals, turning them into altars of life's experiences. Her opening chapter, ironically, resonates with my impending travels to the Big Island of Hawaii, recounting a seaside altar marked by three upright stones.

Taylor's narrative talks about Jacob's story as recounted in Genesis 25, a tale of family discord and flight, where a stone served as his pillow and later, an altar – Bethel, the House of God. It reminds us that the Lord's presence permeates every place and moment, even when we are oblivious. "Surely the Lord was in this place, and I did not know it!" Jacob exclaimed, his stone altar pointing skyward, a silent testament to divine promises.

A profound truth dwells within this narrative – the entire world is God's house. Sometimes we mistakenly assume that God's presence prefers the confines of human-built structures over the boundless majesty of nature. Yet, surely God is in this place. We, humans, aren't the sole inhabitants capable of divine praise; even the trees clap their hands in joyous celebration.

During a hospital visit to Jimmy Nicholson, we candidly talked about God. Jimmy confided in me his belief in the God of the mountains, a sentiment shared by his college professor. 

Baruch de Spinoza, a distinguished Dutch philosopher of the 17th century, once conjectured that if God could speak, God would urge us to rejoice in life, celebrate nature, and find God in every aspect of existence – the sunrise, a friend's gaze, your child's eyes. Spinoza believed the sanctuary of the divine was in the mountains, woods, rivers, lakes, and beaches.

This is precisely the sentiment Jimmy echoed – his belief in the God of the mountains, his experience of divinity in nature, and the mountaintops reaching towards the heavens. It was in the natural world where Jimmy felt the closest to God.

This afternoon I was once again astounded by the beauty of the mountains of Telluride as they stand tall against the bright sky, their tips covered in pure white snow. When the sun shines on them, they sparkle. This beautiful sight is calm and peaceful, making the landscape seem almost dreamlike.

These mountains stand like quiet guards over the town in the valley, their beauty mirrored in the green aspens, budding flowers, waterfalls, and streams below. Each evening, as the sun sets, the mountains glow in an orange, pink, and purple light. It is like a painting that fills you with wonder at the simple beauty of nature.  Today, in God's natural sanctuary, Jimmy's belief in the God of the mountains resonated more profoundly within me.

Telluride, Colorado: The Adventure Begins

June 2, 2023

Before the sun rose over Louisville, I was at the airport, ready to embark on the first trip of my sabbatical. By noon, I had arrived at my destination: the beautiful town of Telluride, Colorado. Generous church members invited me to stay in their condo for the week, nestled in beautiful Mountain Village, Colorado.

Telluride, with its stunning vistas, is close, just a 13-minute gondola ride away. The first time I stepped into the gondola, the experience was surreal. The gentle hum of the gondola and the peace of solitude as I ascended into the majestic peaks of the San Juan mountains... it was a sacred moment that I will not forget. I look forward to a week by myself, lest a short visit from an old friend, as I take in this gift of tranquility surrounded by such natural beauty.

June 3, 2023:

This morning, I opened Book of Daily Prayer, my heart echoed the gratitude written within for the gifts of rest and recreation. With this time for solitude, away from the typical bustle of parenting and professional obligations, I find myself feeling a profound sense of thankfulness.

In the quiet of the afternoon, I began to read a book given to me by Sylvia Hagy, an inspiring book titled "Gift from the Sea". Written Anne Morrow Lindbergh in 1955, this work uses the metaphor of shells collected on a beach to delve into our inner lives, our relationships, and our quest for peace. Each shell is a symbol, representing different stages of life, relationships, and the path to self-realization.

When the Sabbatical Task Force helped me sketch out the plans for my sabbatical, they insisted on the necessity of starting the journey with a week of solitude - a period for mental and spiritual preparation. At first, this suggestion met with resistance. The thought of traveling alone seemed daunting, and I yearned to share this time with my family. However, as the week approached, with the whirlwind of the school year's end, the non-stop schedule of being a taxi driver to two teenagers, and the constant hum of work life, I found myself yearning for this solitary retreat.

Today, the second chapter of the book resonated deeply with me. "We seem so frightened of being alone that we never let it happen..." Lindbergh writes. This fear pushes us to fill every moment of solitude with noise and distractions. Yet, there's a surprising revelation when we allow ourselves to be alone. It feels like a part of us has been amputated, a painful, jarring process. But much like a starfish, we grow anew, becoming even more whole than before. In the silent rhythm of solitude, the beauty of earth, sea, and air become more meaningful echoing the canticle of praise, "Praise ye the Lord, all ye fishes of the sea- all ye birds of the air- all ye children of me- praise ye the Lord!"

This journey into solitude, especially in such a beautiful location like Telluride, is akin to stepping into an echo chamber, where the sounds of life's distractions are muffled, and the whispers of the soul grow louder. As I prepare for the sabbatical ahead, I look forward to growing in this space, finding a deeper rhythm of life, and fostering a deeper relationship with the world around me, particularly the natural one.

June 4, 2023

In the quiet of dawn, I woke up early to capture balloons lifting off over the valley during the annual Telluride Hot Air Balloon Festival. The wind had other plans, however, and the balloons remained earthbound. Stationed across a stream from the park, I found myself with the unique opportunity to capture some beautiful images of the balloons in the cold morning air.

     As dusk descended, I was graced with the arrival of my dear friend, Shelley. Currently leading the congregation at St. Lawrence Episcopal Church in Conifer, Colorado, Shelley and I first crossed paths during her tenure as the Associate Pastor at St. Luke's Episcopal in Anchorage. Five long years separated our last encounter, making our reunion all the more meaningful. The evening was filled with the warmth of shared memories and the joy of catching up on our respective journeys in ministry and our families. Tomorrow, Shelley and I plan to go hiking and enjoy some good places to eat in Telluride.

June 6, 2023

Hiking Adventures with Shelley

Over the past few days, Shelley and I have hiked numerous beautiful trails. After googling where we could see wildflowers, today we embarked on a journey down Last Dollar Road, a picturesque highway winding through ranchlands and the lush San Juan National Forest. We saw breathtaking views of the mountains with wildflowers at their feet. 

Navigating Shelley's RAV4, we carefully utilized the vehicle's "rock and dirt" mode to travel on this rugged path. As we continued on our way, a couple stopped to let us know about a recent encounter with a herd of elk. Intrigued, we decided to venture further along the rocky, narrow trail, flanked by a striking array of aspen trees.

Our progress was stopped by a stream, barring our way forward. There wasn't much space for turning around, with steep cliffs on either side. After moving a few stones that were in the way, I guided Shelley to gingerly maneuver the car, inch by inch, away from the cliff's edge. While we never saw evidence of the elk, other than a few footprints in the mud,  the sense of accomplishment from navigating our way out of the forest was rewarding in itself! Following our adventure, we enjoyed lunch in Mountain Village before saying goodbye as Shelley headed 7 hours back to her home. 

I'm truly thankful for this chance to reconnect with a kindred spirit like Shelley. I hope that our paths cross again in the not-too-distant future.