As I was flying back to the majestic state of Colorado yesterday, I sat down in a uncomfortably small seat crammed next to the window. Did these seats get smaller or did I just gain 20 pounds in the last twenty minutes?
As I struggled to find a comfortable way in which to sit for the next two hours, I grabbed my iPod, thinking that if in the event I was never comfortable, at least I would be distracted from my discomfort by some of my favorite songs.
There is something incredibly soothing and peaceful about flying to me, especially in the evening as the sun begins to set. It’s often that at 36,000 feet that I find my most restful state of being because I am simultaneously completely out of control of the plane and completely captivated by the scenery below me.
I know altitude has nothing to do with it, but I feel God’s presence a little closer. I feel him not hovering over me, but holding me entirely. And of all the places on earth, I feel the most at rest when I am utterly suspended.
As we began our descent into Colorado Springs, I looked out the window and I saw Pikes Peak getting larger and larger in my window pane. Below it I saw, perhaps for the first time, I lovely plateau. A perfect plateau. It looked like something that would be seen in a Geology textbook.
And for whatever reason, I could not stop staring at it. It captivated me. I wish I had taken a picture so I could show you. My description will not do it justice, but I will try my best.
It was a lush and vibrant as the sun spread its’ rays gently on it, reflecting the various hues of the grass. It looked like a blanket, welcoming a weary travel to come and rest.
Plateaus are the middle ground between a valley and a mountain.
As I considered just how lovely it was, so perfectly placed between the valley below and Pikes Peak above, I heard…
This is where I have brought you, Meredith. I know you’re tired. You’ve grown weary in your strivings and I see your strength failing you, so come and sit. Rest here on My plateau of grace. Forget the valley you forged and don’t look to the mountain just yet. Be still here. Be quiet here.
I started just a bit. In that moment a breathed a little easier. All this time when I felt as if the Lord was being a little too still for comfort and when I began to fear His seeming silence, He was just inviting me to take a breather. Rest my feet. Drink some water. Have a meal. Gain a little perspective. And take in the view.
From the plateau, the valley below was truly lovely. It was a place of cool shade, protection, and lush vegetation. From above, it was a beautiful thing– a refreshing site.
From the plateau, the mountain wasn’t an ominous, threatening thing, but rather a glorious piece of creation to behold. With the sun setting behind it and the clouds illuminating colors that can not be described or duplicated, the mountain was breathtaking. It was comforting.
Something so much bigger than me, that seems so insurmountable is not a hinderance– it’s a leg up.
That plateau changed me. It sounds dramatic and perhaps ridiculous. Think what you want. But the picture of that plateau has become a source or peace and rest that I was looking for.