On this day of pervasive rain, my memory bank gifts me with a dazzling blue summer day in North Vancouver, at the top Grouse Mountain. Here we go, edging up the mountainside in a swinging gondola, squeezed in with a crowd of other tourists. Everyone exits toward the chair lift, and here is where the adventure begins. We slip into our seats, our legs dangling helplessly as we give ourselves to this unnerving ride to what must be the top of the world. All illusion of control vanishes now as we swing upward, hardly daring to glance down at the rugged wilderness far below, pointed evergreens threatening to impale us should we tumble. The North Cascades stretch out endlessly before us, layer upon layer of deepest azure, their snowy peaks shining in the sun. We relax as best we can and enjoy the ride, feet high above the ground, out of control.
And I remember a scripture from Jeremiah the Prophet.
“I know, O Lord, that the way of Man is not in himself, that it is not in man who walks to direct his steps.” (Jer. 10:23).
Why do we keep trying, we who have the Holy Spirit living in our hearts to guide and direct us moment by moment? We lift our hands in praise, we lift our voices in worship. Why not lift our feet in surrender to the One who loves us more than we love ourselves?
Another verse, this one from Psalm 73:24. “You guide me with your counsel, and afterward You will take me into Glory.” That seems like a pretty good plan to me. My best days are the ones in which I lay aside the illusion of control, lift my feet, and lean back into His Mercy, as vast as those North Cascades. He carries me.