Moving Mountains

 

I cannot move this mountain, Lord; it is way too deep, too wide. I’ve toiled until my bones do ache, ‘til way past eventide. I cannot go around, dear Lord, a chasm is in the way. There is no bridge for me to cross, no ferry in the bay.

I cannot climb, it is way too steep, the rock face sheer and bare. There are no trees for me to grasp, no foot holes anywhere. How can I fill this mission, Lord, for I am but a man? My strength is not enough, dear Lord, I need a helping hand.

Oh, my son, you did not hear, when I called for help today. You were too busy toiling to hold a light and show the way. You were more concerned about the matters nigh at hand, the mountain right in front of you, than the needs of your fellow man.

How can I lend a hand to you when you have turned your back on those who need my love through you, who daily needs do lack? Go and serve them, then come back, and you will surely see, that we can move this mountain together, you and me.

I left my shovel at my feet and went away from the mountainside. I found another I could help on my way home that eventide. I saw them rested and refreshed and encouraged them to see the light at the end of the tunnel, for He said, “Come, follow me.”

As I turned to leave the simple words came ringing in my ears, “What can I do to help you, you’ve been so kind all of these years.” “I’m trying to move a mountain,” I said with faltering tone, “But it really is not important, I just can’t do it alone.”

“Let us go together,” he said, “There is still hope. I’ll bring a spade, a ladder, and plenty of braided rope.” Once again, the mountain we faced, but this time with the strength of ten. The Lord, me, and my brother, but now, for the salvation of men!