A Mountain Top Experience

I kicked off Lent far far away in a village called Holden, a Lutheran retreat center hidden away in the great Winatchee National Forest. I was at least 3 hours from cell phone reception and buried under two feet of freshly fallen snow.

It was definitely a period of spiritual renewal as I was able to spend much time in study, in prayer and in nature.

I had adventure too. Don, our drummer, is a ski patrolman and was fascinated by huge avalanche depositions all around the village. We made numerous hikes with our snowshoes to investigate the avalanches.

I am from the Midwest and am deeply acquainted with large amounts of snow. I am not however, accustomed to avalanches. I therefore listened intently to all Don's descriptions of how and why avalanches happen and what to do if you find yourself in one.

For the most part, there's nothing you can do if the avalanche is really big. In some cases, the wind alone is strong enough to kill you.

Taking this in, I went with Don on the mother of all avalanche hunts. We hiked 5 miles over the hills and surveyed 6 avalanche deposition areas, viewing even more avalanche trails on the opposing mountain faces.

It got quite warm and as we hiked we felt snow melting under our snowshoes causing us to start slipping as we walked the narrow steep trail. At the end of the trail we paused to look at the view. Startlingly beautiful and remote. I gazed around nothing but mountains for miles and miles on every direction.

Suddenly, a booming sound like a cannon echoed across the valley. I turned and looked to the cliff face next to me seeing pieces of snow and ice chip off of a frozen waterfall. There was no shelter, no way to run. I was certain that I had only seconds before an avalanche would come spilling over the cliff face. Never in all my life have I been so scared. Not in the face of gang violence in Detroit or war in Haiti. In this moment, creation was so much bigger and relentless than anything I've ever faced and I was filled with absolute dread.

After 10 seconds or maybe less (that felt like an eternity) I saw a fighter jet fly through the ravine. The culprit was man after all and the mountain and the snow stood still while I collected courage to move.

I am struck by the largeness of God and of creation. The vastness and the extremity that things so beautiful like snow and water and mountains are also so deadly. That we, in some circumstances are so hardy and resilient and in others so fragile.

"Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, the Lord is with me." took on new meaning.