Under His Shadow
I have a place on this spinning planet, where I love to rest and be still. There are few things in life I can say are my “favorites”, because I love having the freedom to change my mind. But this one place, this one section of ground under the vast blue sky, is, without hindrance or hesitation, my favorite section of ground in all the world.
It’s found in the Great Smoky Mountains. I first visited it over 3 decades ago, and I’ve gone there every year since then, except for the years we lived in Kenya. Oh but I’ve made up for those years. If you ever lose me, just go look in the cove, you’ll likely find me there. We took our children camping there, we’ve hiked the trails, we’ve biked the pathways, we’ve sat by the streams and read books, and “sorted out life”. We’ve been soaked by rainstorms and blistered by sunshine, visited by wildlife, and rested under bluest skies by day and brightest stars by night. It is where I’ve gone to weep out my heartaches by a stream all alone, and where I’ve worshipped at the top of my lungs all alone in the middle of mighty mountains standing firm around me. I’ve been humbled there. Nature will humble you if you sit with it long enough. I’ve felt held there. The mountains will not be changed or altered not one degree by a whining, crying, shouting me…and neither will my mighty Father-God. He made those mountains, and He holds them in place. Their steadfastness reminds me of HIM.
If you visit this place in the mountains, you must go slow and soak it in without an urgency and rush that is our nature in this whirling world. It’s a place where “Be still and know that I am God” can happen — but it won’t be rushed.
Peace won't be hurried. Calm comes like a trickling brook, not a roaring river.
In this cove tucked high in the Appalachians, I’ve logged many countless hours sitting still. Breathing deep. Listening to nothing — and then much begins to speak — not to my ears, but to a place deep inside me where my Father holds the keys to the stage and I kneel at His mercy seat. And here in this writing I’ll share with you one of the endless gifts He’s given me there.
The mountains where I go are covered in trees. Gorgeous, tall, hardwoods that grow beside each other so comfortably — those trees are a picture of what we should be like beside each other. But that’s a whole different writing for another day. Yet, the trees grow so neatly beside each other that from a distance, they almost look like green feathers covering the skin of the ground beneath them. When sitting on one ridge, looking across a valley at another ridge, I can almost imagine the treetops merging together to form a sort of feathery-fur. They stand politely together, with no struggle or strife, they almost appear to be joined as they do the work of shading the earth that holds them up. And for some mountain trekkers, that’s the view they choose.
But I’ve found something tucked within the folds of that view that mesmerizes me even more. For me, after many hours of tree gazing, I’ve discovered that the most beautiful view of a tree is found from its base. From the ground that rests right beside the bark. From the place where tree meets earth — and we lay ourselves down there. And look up. Don’t look to the side or worry about the ant crawling nearby. Just lay a blanket down as close to the trunk of that tree as you can get — and look at the tree towering above you. And breathe.
Lay still. Get comfortable.
Stop moving. Just watch the tree.
The colors found on the underside of its beautiful, strong branches are softer than those on the top. For the leaves on the top have endured the sunlight. But the leaves’ undersides are more tender. As you lay there, you’ll begin to feel the tree become a sort of “shelter” for you. As if the tree itself invites you to rest under its bough and dwell beside its strength. The skies blues become richer when viewed through the scope of tender green. And the bark covering the tree can begin to have the essence of age-old-wisdom. Now, don’t worry — I’m not losing my marbles over a tree, I’m not worshiping the tree or making it to be more than it actually is. For truly, it’s just a tree, formed and grown by the Creator. And yet, as I enjoy His creation I am allowing what He created to show me more of Him, to understand Him MORE. As I slow down and breathe in His creation, I can reach for MORE of the Creator. And that is the goal.
To rest under the great branches of a tree that has lived longer than I have, feels r-i-g-h-t. And to get as close up under that tree as I possibly can, feels somehow humbling. To lay myself down and look up, feels a bit like surrendering my way and looking up for a better way. And to be still in that place, feels like I’m willing to be quiet and listen for the More that my Father might whisper from above into the soul of His waiting daughter.
And dear friend, as I’m waiting there…I’m resting. I’m not trying to figure out anything or solve one of life’s many challenges. I’m resting beside something older, bigger, stronger, and more peaceful than I am. And I’m looking up.
There’s something so, so right about looking up. A tree kindly reminds us to do just that — look up.
And it came to me — that I can look at the trees from a distance, all clumped together, and I see them one way. But when I choose one tree, maybe the big grandfather of trees, and I lay myself down beneath that one tree, I see that tree in a completely new way. It becomes personal, private, even nurturing to the little one (that’s me) resting under it. It’s not distant. It’s up close and revealing more.
The place of perspective changes everything. Up close we see more and we know more. Far away, it looks completely different. That’s how it is with our relationships. That’s how it is with GOD too.
If we hold God at a distance in our lives, if we choose to view Him on His ridge while we sit far away on our ridge, then we will only know Him in that far off way. We might like what we see of Him or we might not — but we are keeping our distance even as we acknowledge His presence over there. Oh but if we will allow ourselves to hike the distance from our ridge,
and walk the well worn paths to Him,
and bravely lay ourselves down at the base of Him,
and be still…
and breathe…
and look up…
at the softness felt under the flow of His great robes…
we will begin to know Him, see Him and rest in Him in ways we never dreamed could ever happen.
For He is a God who allows us to come near. He tore the veil from top to bottom on the day His Son paid the price for our wrongs. He is a Father-God who wants us to draw near to Him. He is soft to the broken, wounded, tender ones who gather close to Him. We can see more clearly and understand more — from the perspective found — laying ourselves down under His wing — and choosing to look up.
It’s the very essence of “He who dwells in the shelter of the most High, will rest in the shadow of the Almighty”. (Psalm 91:1)
It will change everything.
