It’s hilarious how much we miss when we’re in the valley. Yesterday a few of us and Felix, one of our hosts, hiked up the Cross Copje (copje means “little hill” and it was no little hill..it was a straight mountain. These Africans!) and it was wonderful. It was really rough to get up – we got really tired, slid a lot in the black dirt, and slipped on slick rocks. The path wasn’t evident at first glance. We each had to make up our own path – one where each could climb more easily according to their strengths and weaknesses.
By the time we got to the top we’d taken several rests and were exhausted. My feet were black with dirt. My fingernails were black with dirt. My palms were scratched and scraped from grabbing rocks, roots, and trees for leverage.
At the top of the mountain, there was a cross. The wind was blowing so much that one could fly with the proper wings. There were somewhere between fifteen and twenty lizards scurrying away from us and the sun was shining brightly.
The mountains around us nestled Mutare, Zimbabwe and part of Mozambique safely in their grasp. They served as protection and shield from so many elements. It was incredible to see how they faded into shades of cadet blue in the distance. I felt like I could see God painting them with his hands in similar fashion to Mickey Mouse in Fantasia with the water and the magician’s hat. It was a symphony of beauty.
We stayed there for about twenty minutes talking, taking pictures, and praying over the city. Psalm 91 and Ezekiel 37 were incredible words that God brought to us while we were there to read over the city. It was awesome.
In all of that, it was so evident how we go through mountains and valleys, but God is always with us. He always leads us and even when we’re in the valleys, he gives us perseverance to get through all the places on the way up and down when we feel like it’s impossible. When we get to the top, He always reveals himself and makes His love known in the most unmistakable, unbelievable ways.
