Lessons From The Mountain Pt. 4: Rebuilding the Place of Rememberence

As we conclude our lessons from the mountain series (for now), there is one final lesson that needs to be shared. In life, things change; it is an indisputable fact. No matter who you are, what you do, or where you live, change will find you. Coming in many forms, it can be welcomed or difficult, planned or abrupt, but one thing is true: it comes for all. This has never been more evident to me than during my most recent trip to the mountain for graduation this May (2025). From the time Abby and I arrived in Lynchburg and caught a glimpse of the mountain, something seemed off, but we could not know for sure without a trek to the top.

The Thursday before commencement was an absolutely beautiful day; it could not have been any better, making it an ideal time to traverse the mountain and enjoy the view from its peak. As we ascended from the parking lot to the top, we had a decision to make: take our time and gradually ascend or take the detour and go straight up. If you know either of us, it comes as no surprise that we took the detour to get there as quickly as we could. We could not wait to get to the top and enjoy the view from the gazebo… There was only one major problem with that plan. The gazebo, where I had proposed seven years earlier, where we had sat before and sought God for guidance and provision, was gone. Much like the cross that ignited my connection to the mountain, where I had laid my burden, brokenness, and future down, the gazebo where God redeemed that brokenness and burden was gone. It was no longer there; all that remained was the foundational pad on which the previous structure stood. Before you get too concerned, there is a new gazebo being built as the original had sustained damage from the years of use and elemental exposure. Regardless, its absence was jarring as it had played a supporting role in the journey of our lives. In its place that day was a lesson that we would carry down with us and into the next season of our lives.

Walking with Christ is the most fulfilling and beneficial thing we can do with our lives; however, it comes with its heartaches, struggles, and needs. As Christians, we are taught that any petition made in the name of Jesus with proper motivation is heard and heeded by God. It may not end up going the way we would hope, but that does not mean he did not hear and act. As Garth Brooks famously sang, some of God’s greatest gifts are unanswered prayers. Throughout my experiences on the mountain, my sojourns to the top have included opposing objectives, the pursuit of guidance for a need, and the celebration of the fulfillment of that need. Whether it was for a broken relationship, the death of a future to never come, family strife, or burnout in a season of struggle, the mountain has been the place of refuge and surrender. It has also been the place of victory and celebration. In 2017, I arrived shattered and confused but left hopeful in the hands of God. In 2018, I returned for graduation and celebrated not just my new accomplishment but God’s restoration of my heart and future. In 2020, we returned in the middle of COVID, seeking a breakthrough for the future. In 2024, on the last legs of my doctorate, I returned in desperate need of refreshment and direction to finish the task at hand. Finally, in 2025, we returned in victory as my doctorate was complete, the goal set before was now at hand, but the structure that stood with us through those experiences was missing. In the bittersweet melancholy of the moment, I felt the Holy Spirit impress upon my heart that the places of remembrance and power in our lives may last long after the moments have passed, but the way they appear when we return may be different. When I returned in 2018, the cross where I laid everything down was gone as if the Lord was saying I took those things far away, you will not find them here. In 2025, returning and having no gazebo was God's way of saying this season of struggle, trial, and preparation is complete. The place of remembrance still stands (The Mountain), but the destination at the top has changed as the needs of the season have changed. The Bible is full of examples of times in which memorials and places of remembrance were constructed for future generations to return and honor what God had done. Over time, those places changed, and God used those changes as tools for guidance and direction, encouraging those returning according to their purposes and needs for that day.

As we move from glory to glory and season to season, we need to recognize that the places we have found solace and direction must also change and adapt as well. If we are growing and maturing with Christ, we will find ourselves going deeper into the truth of God and life. In doing so, we need a support system that is equally or more in-depth than we are; otherwise, we run the risk of stagnation and regression. This trip up the mountain was a revelation that my Bethel, my place of remembrance, can not stay the same as it was because I have not stayed the same, and if it is going to be what I need it to be in the future, it must change with me. As I close the door to this season, I do not close the door to the mountain and its influence. Instead, I look to the mountain differently as our relationship has changed, and its place in my heart has matured. As we mature and grow our places of provision, solace, and direction must also mature so we do not return to a place that is no longer vital, valid, or life-giving.