Most every morning I take my two basset hounds, Dixie and Belle, the wonderdogs, for a walk. Really I should say that they take me for a walk! I need the exercise more than they do and they are kind enough to go with me while I huff and puff and sweat up the mountain and back down. Right behind my house, is a street with several homes on it and it winds its way up to the top of a mountain. I wish I knew the name of it, but you can see it when you drive down The Orchard Road to our house. My walk is about a mile up and a mile back down that mountain, and I’m glad that I don’t live at the top. It is easier going down after I’ve been up, than going up after I’ve been down!
When I get to the top, I turn around in the cul-de-sac and start back down. As I head down the mountain, I can look above the tree line and see the foothills of the Appalachians, the north Georgia mountains, spread out in front of me. And every morning I am amazed at that sight. I see it every morning and every morning I have to catch my breath at its beauty. I have gotten in the habit of every time I see those mountains, at that point in my walk, I recite to myself the first few verses of Psalm 121. “I lift up my eyes to the hills. From where does my help come? My help comes from the Lord, who made heaven and earth.”
My help does not come from the hills, but from the Creator of the hills; not from the mountains, but from the Creator of the mountains. My help does not come from heaven and earth, but from the Maker of heaven and earth.
You see, it is too easy to confuse the created for the Creator. Unfortunately, I too often think that my help comes from the earth, from earthly things, temporal things, things that I can produce or manipulate with my hands, the created. Those mountains, as beautiful as they are, as majestic and powerful as they are, are nothing in comparison to the one who created them. My help comes from above, not below.
You see, every human beauty should point us to the Creator of that beauty. We may enjoy a painting, but we must honor not the painting but the painter. Every human beauty should point us beyond itself to the source of that beauty, the source of all beauty, that is to God himself. At the same time, every human beauty points us to God because if we are honest, no human beauty can fully satisfy. Those mountains, again as beautiful and majestic and powerful as they are, can’t satisfy the deep desires in my soul for beauty and majesty and power. They point beyond themselves not only to their Creator as their source, but also to the One who is truly beautiful, completely majestic, all-powerful. Every human beauty should leave us a bit wanting, longing for more, for a deeper, greater satisfaction, a deeper and greater beauty.
And this is true for everything beautiful that we are blessed by God to enjoy. Food—the greatest feast we could enjoy will be nothing compared to the great banquet that is to come. Relationships—as wonderful as friendships are now and as fulfilling and completing as our relationships with our spouses may be, nothing will be like the unhindered fellowship that we will enjoy with our Savior in Heaven. Engineering triumphs, scientific achievements, artistic accomplishments, these are like a child’s sand castle compared to the Taj Mahal that is Jesus. They must all point us to God both as the source of all beauty and the fulfillment of our God-created desires for beauty.
To look for beauty, or hope or completion or satisfaction, in anything else besides God, as found in the person of Jesus, is idolatrous. Let us not find our hope or our help in the mountains, but in the Maker of the mountains, the Maker of heaven and earth.