What is it about the mountaintop that screams so silently to our soul?
Where resides the magnet that draws inexorably, calling, beckoning, seducing, begging to meet--yet somehow content to wait until we are ready to heed and follow the yearning to go?
Maybe it's the remov-ed-ness.
The solitude.
The sense that somehow, by simply following the winding trail up the outcropping of granite, we step out of our norm and into something uniquely different.
Something spiritual.
Something other.
Maybe it's because it feels like the heaviness of life can't follow us up that hill... Or maybe it's because ultimately, the heaviness of life died with one man on a hill long ago...
Maybe that, in the end, is the significance of the mountaintop.
Above, removed from it all. Silence. Solitude. Closeness to God...
...and the knowledge that it was a mountaintop on which the very weight we seek to unload was lifted off our shoulders and removed forever...
...and the feeling of his breath across our backs, past our faces, whispering...
"Sit with me a while. I've been here all along."
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