In Everything, He is Good.

“Should Oceans Rise and Mountains Fall, He Never Fails…”

 

There are very few moments that can be considered pivotal events in one’s life. Finishing high school, for instance; earning a driver’s license; graduating college, or getting married. None of those examples are relevant considerations in my life as of currently, but my experience hiking Acatenango is considerably just as significant as any other pivotal event in my 25 years of life experiences.

I was nervous about the hike, admittedly. But it was an excited kind of nervous. The kind that keeps you on the edge of your seat rather than makes you want to run for the hills. And the excited nervous energy could  be felt by the whole team as we prepared our minds for possibly the most physically challenging experience many of us would ever face.

We were less than 10 minutes away from our destination when I received the ominous text that would affect my entire volcano hiking experience, that would alter my perspective on life as a whole, and that would change the way I saw and knew God unlike ever before.

The words from my mom lit up on my screen like the world’s darkest beacon, alerting me that there was an emergency at home that required a phone call that I wasn’t able to give in that moment. A part of me panicked at the message, but somehow my heart discovered hopeful optimism in spite of the fear it was coated with. That is, until I learned the news of the loss of a brother in law that felt much more like the loss of a brother.

If you’ve ever experienced what it’s like for your world to suddenly feel like a dream turned into a nightmare that you can’t wake up from, this moment was that for me. And that moment was only perpetuated by the fact that only seconds later after receiving this news, I loss cell service entirely, and I had no way to either receive or send a response, which would likely be the case for the next two days straight.

The next hour or so passed by in a blur. Team members and friends prayed prayers of peace over me and my family that calmed the sadness and anxiety threatening to overpower my mind from the news. We layered up in gear to protect against the cold we would face along the path and at the end of our near-seven hour trek, but somehow in the midst of the rain and cold, a large part of me only felt numb.

But I couldn’t turn back—frankly, there was nowhere to turn back to. My only choice was to go forward and process what had taken place and what was currently taking place back home while I trekked this brutal path to the summit of a volcano that now seemed unimportant in light of everything my family was facing.

The first half of the hike was torturous in more ways than one. Every step uphill felt like a fight against both gravity and against myself. I warred with the mental strain of the climb, the slow defeat of my mind and body as I made the slow ascent to a peak I no longer cared to conquer. I felt myself complaining in my heart about the journey, wishing I could be doing something of importance, contributing to aiding the heart of my family in this life-altering circumstance. Anything but trudging up that beautiful yet arguably inconsequential volcano just to make it to the top and say I’d done something big.

In my struggle, a good friend offered to carry my weighty backpack for me for the remainder of the hike. I refused at first, admittedly out of pride of not wanting to appear weak or incapable, but the body of believers around me surrounded me in encouragement and support I didn’t know I needed, convincing me that handing over the hardships and struggles I was carrying to my brothers and sisters in Christ mirrors the grace Jesus brought on the cross when He bore the weight of our burdens and sins. Often this measure of grace is difficult to receive. Fear of not being worthy of such a gift, the pride of not wanting to need help, the worry behind not knowing the cost of receiving it…

 

But just as Jesus’ death on the cross brought a grace that costs nothing to receive but our “Yes”, handing my pack over to my friend needed nothing but my willingness to be supported by the Kingdom around me.

As I continued on my journey, the weight of my pack no longer a burden I had to bear, I now struggled with the emotional tug of my heart that couldn’t be distracted by the pain of bearing physical weight up that mountain. Every concern I had began to flow into my mind at once: How was my family doing? What was happening back home? Was my family concerned that I couldn’t answer my phone or respond to their messages? Should I start looking for tickets to return home and see them? How will this affect their faith? How would we ever move on from this?  

As I battled question after question, fear after fear, the Lord brought to my attention that for the first time on the hike, I was somewhat alone. I looked in front of me, and there were many who were significantly ahead. I turned around and saw that there were some who were a good distance behind. And it was in this pseudo-isolation that the Lord began to speak to me.

He brought my attention to the beautiful mountainous view around me, covered in a layer of clouds and fog, yet breath-taking all the same. He showed me the sky and its endlessness, the trees around me and the details grafted into each and every leaf. He opened my eyes to notice the rocks in their multitude and the gravel my feet crunched against as I took my next step.

And as I noticed the definition within creation, I recognized that while I’d been concerned about everything that was taking place at home, worrying over all that I could never have the capacity or ability to control, I was missing all of what the Lord had already done on this earth that so evidently defines His character. I recognized His sovereignty as the Creator, His authority over Creation, His faithfulness in guiding my footsteps, His gentleness in my grief, His peace in the middle of the chaotic storm of my mind and circumstances…

There was never a moment during the journey where He wasn’t walking ahead of me, leading my path. There was never a moment where He wasn’t walking behind me, protecting my every step. There was never a moment where He wasn’t walking beside me, holding my hand, or hovering over me, shielding me with His Spirit. Everything I saw around me was an example of His love, and it was through this reminder that I was able to worship Him in the middle of the grueling journey to the peak of one of His most beautiful creations.

I started off the journey on Acatenango with nervous excitement that turned to exhausted heartbreak. I finished the journey on that volcano with a joy in my spirit, peace in my heart, and a smile on my face that could only come from the Lord and from the knowledge that in our greatest darkness, He is the only Hope that can shine through it.

 

Remember, You Are Loved.

Aliseya