IN THE SHADOW OF MY HEART, A MOUNTAIN ROARS

A slow walk up...

• --Psalm 34:18 "The lord is nigh unto them that are of a broken heart, and saves such as be of a contrite spirit..."

  --Isaiah 61:1 "...bind up the brokenhearted..."

  --Psalm 121:1 "I will lift up mine eyes to the hills, from whence comes my help."

• Some days it feels like our dear USA is a nation of broken hearts, self included. We are good at hiding it...but the cover has been forcefully torn off. So many shards are flying about, only God could put the pieces back together in any semblance of order.

• There is a coarseness that has moved in over our nation, over the last several decades, disastrously affecting most of us, especially the young (what I once was...) We have been desensitized by violent movies and events, pornography, extremes of cynicism rubbing our souls raw.

• "Why bother,” we groan... We hurl invective in all four directions without concern for the results. We categorize and castigate. We aim rocks of granite and also of lead. The heavy weight of cynicism sits on our chests, like a fuel-filled tank with guns blazing and darkening the skies.

• We expect to be emulated, adored, we have allowed " influencers" to affect us, sometimes with sheer darkness and wonder why we feel like Hades front door, blocked with an awful mess.

• God help us...we think we're so smart... but we're not.

• The past couple of weeks, especially from Sept. 10, 2025, have been very difficult, with live on-air murders, screaming and yelling and bellowing and a raw bunch of disaffected and sorrowful souls.

• I remember years back when I lived in San Francisco, I would occasionally ride the Amtrak commuter train to Roseville (near Sacramento) to visit the few remaining relatives from my Dad's side The train wove along the water's edge until it crossed the Sacramento River bridge. Before the crossing, I gazed out the windows to the land on the side, shocked to see multiple vagabond campsites strewn in messy piles at the track side, woeful abandoned piles of mattresses, tents, boxes, clothing, foodstuffs, fire pits. This was the general malaise of castaways abandoned by themselves and cast off by the world. My Dad, who was a railroad man, told me about "hoboes" who would camp out near the train tracks in my hometown of Klamath Falls, Oregon. I always wondered about them...

• So many of us feel like vagabonds, held just outside the boundaries, hanging on by a thread at times. Overwhelmed by the harshness of the world and the powers that be, I have come close to being in that condition.

• In addition to our primal selves, we also have a merciless enemy, that fallen angel Lucifer, whom we call Satan, who lies, torments, mistreats, oppresses, harasses, persecutes. He is both smart and stupid. He is also a master marketer and more skilled than any out there. He weaves the perfect storm of upheaval.

  Although the devil has certainly taunted me and invited me to join his not-merry dance, I do not intend to join his filthy crew in the darkness. He cheats. He remains the bully of all bullies.

• In the depths of sadness over the murder of Charlie Kirk and of the young Ukrainian woman on a train, I heard this phrase in my spirit on Sunday, Sept. 14, “in the shadow of my heart, a mountain roars."

• HUH?? A mountain in me?? God, have You observed me? I am blunt but not mighty. Roars??

• Not wealthy, not influential, in the constant battle for survival...I am not very impressive.

• A mountain anywhere near someone like me would feel seriously displaced. While direct and straightforward, I am still the least competitive person on earth.

  I have truly lived not in the cab of the roaring train, directing things... but as a rider on the caboose. Both my dad and his dad were railroad men and I have a kinship with trains...the "iron horse" as they were called, driving on through the night...like Dagny Taggart on the John Galt line, remember that unforgettable character in Atlas Shrugged?

• The older we get, the more the veil is thinned, life grows more intense and also more demanding. I am simply not an “iron horse.”

• I am utterly forced to rely completely on the mercy of God.

• The demands of the physical realm are formidable. The temptation to despair...almost overwhelming... BUT...I will hold fast to God and His Son, even by my proverbial fingertips (not polished). If I have to crawl across the finish line into Heaven on my hands and knees...I will do that.

• I do have to ask of Papa God, just what kind of mountain are You speaking to me about?

  I grew up in southern Oregon, just to the north of the California border, in Klamath Falls. About 90 miles to the south was Mount Shasta at about 14,000 feet and to me, one of the most magnificent and formidable mountains in the world. That one for me??

• Do You speak of a 6,200 foot more hill-like mountain called "Hogsback" in my hometown, not majestic but also very formidable and earthy, that stood in the midst of smaller hills in Klamath Falls? Not that beautiful to look at but plunked right there in the middle of things, not to be ignored and a warrior height for sure.

• I am certain He is not speaking to me about something like Mt. Everest...one of the crown jewels of mountains of the earth.

• How about a "hillock"?? (tiny hill) That sounds more like me…

• In my daily road with God, He works through the Great Teacher, Holy Spirit, to guide my life. In times of chaos like the past week, I cling especially tightly to God, all day, every day.

• I am not understanding how a mountain could be in my realm ? I am not accustomed to winning, I am not a person of great accomplishment, I am not wealthy or powerful. WHAT is this mountain doing in my HEART?? ROARING??

  I read some, that mountains reveal a spiritual quest or path towards God. That is certainly what I am on, day by day, even if I have never climbed an actual physical mountain.

• I have lived in the realm of the spirit of grief, as grief has held on in my life for decades, long after the sudden deaths of Mom and brother two years apart in my early youth long ago. I had to go on living, I chose to do so...and yet the grief has not gone away completely.

• Is this the mountain You are guiding me to, to get out of grief?

• I guess part of the process right now is the digging and the scrambling and the questioning. The rawness is not pleasant. The world right now is not remotely tidy, the grief on so many people from divergent points of view, the dissention, the anger, the frustration. I get it. I get it 100%. I long for Home...

• But..I have some work left to do.

• I have learned enough about how God works to recognize He is a "Stealth Papa", tenderly and yet forcefully nudging me to allow Him to change my grief to His joy! I fully admit I am not remotely in the joy territory. It remains foreign and actually frightening. I have had some brief moments of joy in my life...but not many, except when I think of Heaven, my eternal Home on down the road.

• Not there yet, still plowing through the mud pit, shedding oceans of tears and clinging in desperation to His hand. I have, however, at least NOT LET GO.

  Please join me in this quest, for whatever overcoming you struggle with...cast the whole mess on Papa's mighty shoulders...as He and His Son can carry it...and repeat, repeat, repeat…

• Wendy Elizabeth Williams Friday, September 19, 2025

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