Awe

This is the view from our cabin at Mount Hermon in all of its beautiful wonderful-ness. There is something about the redwoods, especially the redwoods of the Scotts Valley area, that makes me want to dance and laugh and rest and play and stand in awe of the majesty of God all at the same time. As I write this I am so filled with the joy of the Lord. I am so filled with love and compassion. I marvel at God's incredible love for us. I can almost hear His creation groaning. The kingdom is here and is being born! I feel His longing for what is still to come.

We probably all have a place where God has touched us intimately. Although He is always with us, there is something about this area that makes my spirit dance. When I was a surly 16 year old, my parents took me on a two week whirlwind west coast tour, tearing me from my high school boyfriend and producing much teenage angst. I remember being incredibly grouchy in what was my dad's idea of a "relaxing" trip, which consisted of accumulating massive amounts of car mileage in a compacted time period. Nevertheless, one morning, outside of San Francisco, we stopped to see the redwoods. No matter how moody I wanted to be, I could not help but become overwhelmed with emotion in the midst of these beautiful, peaceful trees. Their history spoke to me in a way that could only reach my teenage soul, and I felt God at a level I never experienced before. I could no longer be angry or frustrated in the presence of such beauty.

Several years ago, I did not realize the irony behind the fact that my alcohol rehab facility happened to be smack dab in the middle of the redwoods, nor did I recognize any longer God's ability to speak through nature. I was too lost in the middle of an addiction, too self absorbed to even remember that God had always been speaking to me. Nevertheless, in a moment of absolute grace and power, he used his creation to spark and reignite a passionate love affair.

While his power manifests in and through relationship with Christ and others, his creation speaks of his goodness. He is relentlessly chasing us, wooing us, and always loving us. Before I could grasp a partial glimpse of the Godhead of Father, Son and Holy Spirit, I prayed in that camplike rehab facility in a high remote area of redwood trees. I prostrated myself on a redwood bench crying out to a God I could not even begin to fathom. As sunbeams shined through the tops of the trees, I felt his presence.

I find it quite interesting that we are here today at Mount Hermon family camp. It is a great spot for us to relax for a week in the midst of the hustle and bustle of moving. I am always moved by the smell of the wood in the cool morning air, the serenity and the beauty. However, I never knew of Mount Hermon as a evangelical family camp until recently. Mount Hermon Road is always etched in my mind as the exit for the rehab facility I went to, only about a mile from where I am today. And while my relationship with God is more relational and the depth of knowing him is too deep for words, I know that that there are infinite spiritual paradigms to climb. He also works in ways that are much more mysterious and beyond our human capability to completely understand.

But I wouldn't have it any other way.