Finding God
I
lift up my eyes to the hills—where does my help come from? My help comes from the Lord, the Maker of
heaven and earth. (Psalm 121:1, 2)
Brad and I were barely
acquainted until that summer we went to a high school camp in the boundary
waters of northern Minnesota. There we were paired up, sharing a tent and a
canoe for eight days of paddling across lakes, hiking portage trails while
toting overloaded backpacks, and eating ersatz food from little envelopes.
And there was
rain—merciless, cold, unremitting rain. Nothing ever got dry…clothes, sleeping
bags, tents, food…everything was constantly wet and cold. It was a miserable time
for me, and I’ve not been camping since. I adopted the approach of a local
radio personality who said for him roughing it meant staying in a ten-year old
Holiday Inn.
Brad had the opposite
response. The week of tramping through that northern rain forest was the start
of a lifelong love of the outdoors. He left college after a year to become a
guide in that same boundary waters area and later used weekends and vacations
as opportunities to paddle and portage and pitch tents some more. Reminiscing
about that first summer camp, Brad told me he “finds God” in the north woods. There
he experiences peace in his soul that he can find nowhere else.
The people of Bible times
struggled with the question of where to find God. Those unfamiliar with the
message of one God worshipped Baal, believed to be the god of thunder and rain,
of vegetation and fertility, who was thought to live in the hills of the land
of Canaan. When people were waiting for the seasonal rains that would assure
the success of their annual crops, they looked to the hills where the
rainclouds formed—that is, they sought the help of Baal.
The psalm writer was
tempted to look for God where his neighbors did. But he paused and reflected: “Where does my
help come from?” It wasn’t from those gods others worship, but from the Lord, Creator
of the hills and Savior of the earth.
The renewal of our
spirits doesn’t depend on the place where we may seek it. Brad goes north to
rugged trails, I to the Adirondack chair by our lake, to the stories of faithful
hearts and noble souls. It’s all good. God is here, God is there. What matters
is that we trust the One who made it all—who made us all—and who alone
is our source of strength and hope.
