“No traveler, whether a tree lover or not, will ever forget his first walk in a sugar-pine forest. The majestic crowns approaching one another make a glorious canopy, through the feathery arches of which the sunbeams pour, silvering the needles and gilding the stately columns and the ground into a scene of enchantment.” ~ John Muir

https://ebible.com/esv/psalms/121

I would dare to say that the first two verses of Psalm 121 are familiar to most of us. We use them as a call to prayer when we are in need. “I lift my eyes up to the hills. From where does my help come? My help comes from the LORD, who made the heavens and earth.” But, for the Jewish pilgrim singing this Song of Ascent, the reference to looking to the hills is most likely Jerusalem.

Jerusalem is situated between four hills. We know the names of two: Mount Zion and Mount Moriah. Mount Zion, however, is used interchangeably with Jerusalem, aka the City of David. And, with Solomon’s temple being built in an elevated area of Jerusalem, travelers on their way to “the city on a hill” would constantly lift their eyes to see if they could catch a glimpse of God’s dwelling place coming into view. This particular Psalm fits well in the category of pilgrimage songs since it is a declaration of God’s shelter and protection when walking through life’s journey. I also happen to know that Zion means “shelter.” The reason I know this is because it’s the meaning of my youngest son’s middle name: Gregory Zion.

A few weeks ago, I went with a friend on a hiking trip to the Ozarks. The entire reason for our weeklong girl’s trip was to hike this particular trail with a beautiful swimming hole at the top. She is an experienced hiker. This was my first hiking endeavor. I had no previous expectations of what this hike should entail. But, she was a bit a puzzled when the entrance wasn’t marked, and it was difficult to spot. We ended up finding a park ranger who kept trying to send us up the road a bit so that we could easily reach the swimming hole. He finally understood that we wanted the challenge, so he showed us the entrance to the path.

Once we entered the forest, we did not see another soul the entire hike. Although we were completely alone amidst the mountains and the trees, I am not sure I have ever felt the Lord’s eyes upon me so intently. I knew we were completely safe even though my friend classified this trail as strenuous. We used that word often on that trail–and we laughed about it immensely.

Deer, wild turkey, and a rather menacing looking bobcat (or, mountain lion), were among the wildlife we saw on our drive that morning. I was a bit concerned about finding snakes, especially since you could tell this was not a well-trodden path. But, the only thing we ran across that raised our eyebrows a bit was a dried paw print in the dirt that either belonged to a large wolf or small bear. However, we did have one little fellow that seemed to be fascinated with us and traveled with us for maybe an hour–an intensely turquoise-colored dragonfly.

We had been praying and singing as we climbed over rocky terrain. I kept telling my friend that Father was reminding me of wonderful memories of my children when they were small. It was special. And, then our little buddy showed up. He was stunningly colorful and fun to watch. We were amazed that he traveled with us for so long, but it reminded me of another memory that I had with my youngest two when they were toddlers.

We were swimming in my mother-in-law’s pool. A dragonfly landed on the raft next to my boys. They would laugh and he would fly above us and then land again. It was obvious that he was playing with us. This went on for 45 minutes and I remember telling my little guys that this was a gift from God. Dragonflies don’t usually hang around like that, but this was a message from their heavenly Father. He wanted them to experience wonderment and joy.

I shared that story with my friend, and we talked about how joyful it is to watch your children grow up into maturity. Then tears welled up in my eyes because I distinctly heard Father say, “Yes, it is a joy to watch your children grow.” Not only did I feel his gaze in that moment, but I felt his smile. We had to stop so I could collect myself. It was such a profound moment. At this point we were surrounded by a canopy of trees, but not far back we had crossed the water by finding footholds on the unsteady rocks that lined the shallow riverbed. Hence the word, strenuous.

There was such an awareness of Father’s care on that hike. So much so that I did not realize how strenuous that trail truly was until we began our return back down the mountain. I asked my friend several times if she remembered the difficulty we were encountering as we originally climbed. She said, “Yes, I wasn’t sure what you were going to think about it all, but you kept going.” Truthfully, I was very unaware of the danger. I was just enthralled with Father’s presence and the beauty that surrounded me.

You know that we can live like that, right? If we are in Christ, we do not have to climb a mountain in order to feel close to God; or to be where he dwells. “Let us then with confidence draw near to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need.” Hebrews 4:16 (ESV). Because of Jesus’s sacrifice we can boldly come before our Father and receive his provision and protection. He loves it when his children recognize his desire to be their shelter. It is the mature Christian that comes to their Father in complete dependence and trust when in need. And, the truth is: we are all in need of his care.

Most of us are walking through some rocky terrain in the present. This journey we are currently on is most likely going to get a bit rockier before it gets better. But be encouraged. Father’s gaze knows right where you are–he has not lost sight of you!

I have a challenge for you. Instead of focusing on the jagged rocks that might lie ahead, ask Father to show you something special–something that brings wonderment and joy. He is a specialist when it comes to making memories with his children.