I've come to understand in recent years how important mountains are. 

Certainly, mountains have a powerful way of shaping the character and destiny of a people. They mark the boundaries of kingdoms and prescribe the course of human events. They're the scene of great triumphs and great tragedies; the subject of great art and great stories.  They shift winds, guard forests, define deserts.  Mountains have significance geologically, historically, meteorologically, agriculturally, and in a lot of other allys as well.

But what I mean, simply, is that mountains are important to me.

That's been reinforced for me as I've spent a week the last several years in the Black Mountains of the Great Smokies and last month again as I stayed with friends at Tall Timber Ranch, surrounded by the snow covered peaks of the Cascade Mountain in Washington State. Each time I come back to the mountains, I have this wonderful moment when I feel as if my heart is suddenly uncaged and set free to soar over the landscape of my life. And from this exalted perspective I am able to see that my life is both much smaller and much greater than I had given it credit for, that God's presence and activity in my life is more ancient and everlasting and majestic than I had noticed. And though I've come to anticipate these epiphanies, they somehow always comes to me as a surprise... just like grace.

I think this happens, because when you're in the mountains, you can't help but look up. Like the Psalmist,
I lift my eyes to the hills; from where will my help come? And looking up, the conclusion is obvious, My help comes from the Lord, who made heaven and earth   (Psalm 121:1).

My friend Steve is able to look out his office window, and look up at majestic Mt. Baker.  From my office, if I tilt my head just right and peak around the window AC unit, I'm able to see a bit of an old spruce tree and the peak of the roof of the old Victorian home across the street.  Someone suggested to me that skyscrapers can induce us to look up as well as mountains.  But however towering and gleaming they are, skyscrapers are still only monuments to human accomplishment, and as we've learned after September 11, vulnerable to human devilment. Mountains remain as unshakable testimony to God's sovereignty, proclaimers of God's glory and reminders of God's eternity.

There are no mountains in Cincinnati, but you and I are not left without an invitation to look up. That's what worship does. Each week for an hour as we gather in the sanctuary we're invited to "turn our eyes upon Jesus, to Lift up our hearts...lift them up to the Lord, to proclaim God's greatness, to glory in his presence." We're reminded that "Before the mountains were brought forth, or ever you had formed the earth and the world, from everlasting to everlasting you are God!&(Ps. 90:2),
His righteousness is like the mighty mountains!  (Ps. 36:6)
and he is glorious, more majestic than the everlasting mountains! (Ps. 76:4)
As the mountains surround Jerusalem, so the Lord surrounds his people, from this time on and forevermore!  (Ps. 125:2).

Like being in the mountains, when we truly worship, we can't help but look up, and looking up, we're able to see our lives from God's perspective.

This Sunday, I want to invite you to come with me to the mountains as we are led in worship by Spirit Rising (our Praise Ensemble) "to the rock that is higher than I"  (Ps 61:2). 

Following Christ with you,

Pastor Erwin