Scaling Mountains

My roommates and I went on a hike on Saturday. We'd read that it was a mild, mile-and-a-half hike, and we thought, "hey, we can do that in no time! Perfect!" Heh. Famous last words. Turns out that mile-and-a-half was steeply inclined and covered in loose shale, which made the footing treacherous and the going difficult. As we hiked, I remembered a friend telling me that humans simply are not built for the mountains. Physiologically, we're just not suited to living at high altitudes and on rocky terrain. And yet we try to go up in the mountains anyway. We're drawn to the mountains, almost irresistibly (at least, it's irresistible for me).

But why the attraction? Why do we want so badly to get up there?

Climbing a mountain takes everything you've got and more. It exhausts every faculty, strains every muscle, and requires every ounce of mental focus to reach your goal. The loftier the peak, the further past your limits the climb will push you. And yet, the view at the top, and the rush of exhilarated triumph makes up for the grueling climb.

So it stands to reason that the loftiest peak would test every reserve of fortitude you've got, right? And what loftier heights can you reach than those you reach in the temple? I think there's a very profound connection between the temple and the mountains. After all, the temple is often referred to as the Mountain of the Lord (and isn't there some documentary on the Salt Lake Temple that's called exactly that?)

And so I begin continue scaling my mountain. I've made it past the foothills. I've had friends and guides who've shown me the trail. The summit is in my view. Yet what lies in between is the hardest stretch. Glaciers, cliffs, sheer rock faces. And at every turn, the mighty force of gravity just waits for the slightest slip of the foot to yank me back down the mountain. It's a climb that would strike fear into even the most stalwart soul.

I am afraid. I'd be a fool if I weren't. But this mountain has something that your typical challenging peak doesn't have: the strongest, wisest, most capable Mountain Guide you could possibly ask for. He never slips, never trips, never so much as shifts his footing. And always, his hands are there to catch you when you stumble. No one scales this mountain alone.

And so, tired though I might be, I dig in again and continue to climb.