I am always uncomfortable with the things that J says which are elastic-impossible.
So You are telling me if I have a little bit of faith I can ask mountains to fall into the sea?
This would be galvanizing if I had never tried it. If there had never been a mountain I really needed, really wanted, really believe could be…moved.
The heartbreak of the unmoving mountains.
So first, an inventory–
Mountains are so big, so high, so holy
Why should they move for me?
Today my daughter said the thing that did not staunch all the grief of unmoved mountains, but did let me see how the unanswered questions have long been answered.
She said the mountain is a metaphor for God.
The relief of it was palpable. God. I know God moves for me. Moves toward the Cross. Moves the boundaries of eternity. Moves toward the prodigal son. Runs, actually.
Suddenly I see.
It was never the unmovable mountains, it was inexplicable stones moved away from terrible places to make room for the God of resurrection.
Nothing too hard for J.