[Even though those things feel helpful to me, they are only idols on a With this in perspective, the verse above takes on a whole new dimension: But living here, stripped away from all we knew before (the safety of the suburban life, competency in our career fields, fruitfulness in our circles of influence), I can clearly see that my identity was not actually in Christ, but in the scaffolding I had erected as my life. In the states, as a woman who walked with the Lord for over 30 years and worked in full-time ministry for almost a decade, I would have said that my identity was securely rooted in Christ. But I realize now that having them made me feel safe, secure in who I was, encouraged and hopeful for the future.
Good schools for my kids? Nice Christian friends for them? A rewarding career? A peaceful, satisfying marriage? A thriving, life-giving church to be a part of? Nothing is wrong with any of these things. Sometimes as I walk down the street here in my new city and “lift my eyes to the mountains,” I ask myself what idols I worshiped on the figurative mountains of my past. But where do I choose to find my help? My help comes from the Lord, the One True God, the Maker of Heaven and Earth.” He explained that the “high places” that the kings in the Old Testament were told to tear down were the places of idol worship-the places that they looked to for help. The idea that the psalmist was communicating in this verse was in essence, “I look up and see the place of idol worship. Buoy us here as we continue to live out what you’ve called us to.Ī few months ago, John Piper shed more light on these verses for me. I want to protect and provide for my family and I am so worried about their fragile hearts. Lord, please help my husband. He feels so incompetent and stupid and lonely here. He used to love school, and now he cries and dreads the week ahead. She was struggling to read in English, and now we’ve thrown her into another language! Lord, please help my son. Will they resent us for bringing them here? Lord, please help my daughter. Most days it’s been for our little family that I’ve pleaded: And sometimes, I do.īut if I am honest, on most mornings this first year here, during my quiet and centering time in the Word and journaling, I don’t have the capacity to pray earnestly for those “bigger” things. I wish I could say that I plead for His Kingdom to come, His will to be done. I wish I could say that I plead with Him for the salvation of the lost here. I wish I could say that my heart breaks for the brokenness around us. Here, when I pray, I find myself pleading with God in desperation. In my home culture, when I asked the Lord for help it usually was asked more like a polite request for wants, not needs.
We knew relocating a middle-aged couple with careers, connections, and influence, along with three school-aged children would be challenging, but never in my wildest dreams could I have guessed that it would feel nearly impossible. My family and I moved from a small college town in Georgia to a large capital city in Southeastern Europe a little over one year ago. Not only is this verse more meaningful to me now because I live in the middle of a mountain range, it is also impactful because never before have I felt my deep, deep need for the Lord. Within 20 minutes of our apartment, nestled in a long valley, are four different snow-capped Olympic mountains. You literally cannot look out my window, drive down the street or look at a reflection in a building or puddle without “lifting your eyes” and seeing a mountain. I have read/heard the verse above several times in my 30+ years as a Christian. But now that my American-bred family of five lives as ex-pats in a mountainous region of the Balkans, it has new meaning to me. “ I lift up my eyes to the mountains-where does my help come from? My help comes from the Lord, the Maker of heaven and earth.”
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