Fierce Landscapes, Part IV: Returning

(Here we see desert, mountain, and cloud along with the Great Sand Dunes of Colorado.)


How marvelous it is to be on the mountaintop, receiving revelation and illumination. How marvelous it is to be in the cloud, feeling so close to God. Yet there is an irony in the cloud. Yes, we do see the world more from God’s eyes, but not completely.

For the top of the mountain is enshrouded by a cloud, and we cannot see the very top. And the cloud extends beyond the top of the mountain. As Luther understood so well, God ever remains a hidden God. As we step into that cloud, we also begin to lose ourselves. We sense mystical union with God, we sense God’s presence, we feel God’s grace and love, but there ever remains that mysterious distance. The mystics called it “brilliant darkness.” Rudolf Otto called it the numinous, the “idea of the holy” that is always out of our touch.

We want to remain in that mystical union, in that mountaintop experience. But, like Peter on the Mount of Transfiguration, we cannot stay there. Over again and again we will return to the desert. Our joy will turn to sorrow, our feeling of union to experiences of abandonment and rejection.

We will again experience the metaphysical pain of mortality, of finiteness. But, having been to the mountaintop, we will not lose faith. We will understand ever more deeply that our love and joy are tied to our losses and grief.

Here is one of those strange times in life when the mental trumps the emotional. We remember. Yes, we remember. Just as the Israelites remembered how God had been faithful to God’s promises in the past, so they trusted God would be faithful to them in the future. We, too, in our times of sorrow and loss, remember the mountaintop revelations we have had. We remember those rare but unforgettable experiences in the cloud when we felt so very, very close to God; even “at one” with God. As we remember, we receive the strength and fortitude we need to move on. We may even begin to love the desert, because, painful as the desert always is, it is the beginning point of revelation, and, like Jesus, we return to it again and again to find the courage and direction we need for our lives.

In future posts we will continue to reflect on how desert, mountaintop, and cloud can act as metaphors that illuminate our experiences in life. I invite you to share your own examples.