There’s a song that stole my heart last year when I discovered it. It was one of those times you hear something that takes you to a place in your feels you hadn’t discovered yet. And like buried treasure you sink into that warm and familiar feeling of experiencing something deep and wide and beautiful and loving knowing there are now words to dance around that sensation.
I really love this song. It’s called “House Upon a Hill,” by Amanda Cook.
It’s a song about Jesus meeting with you. Alone. Just you and Him. What would He say? How would He phrase it? What would it feel like?
I’ve been back in the United States for as long as I was gone now. I’ve spent time in a variety of places with a variety of people and though it seems like time has slowed to an uncomfortable pace, I’ve just now started to sink into a rhythm that feels like contentment.
Last week, we received an email from Adventures In Missions about our options for moving forward. There were many. Some looked similar to the path we had originally chosen and some looked quite different but all options had a start date of months from now. So. More waiting. And in between the chatter of discussing what to do and when, I knew that asking Jesus would be the first place to start.
I’d heard of people taking a sabbatical with Jesus. Some of my mentors and impressive leaders like Francis Chan have run off to the woods to get quiet with Him and listen. I always thought that sounded nice, sounded expectant, and sounded like someone with a special relationship with Jesus.
But I wasn’t sure it was something I was supposed to do.
Wouldn’t it be dangerous for me to be alone in the woods? Would I be afraid? Would it be stupid of me if I got hurt and no one knew? Would I get lonely? Would I even hear from Him?
I had all those questions, the same questions most of us have and probably the reason that most of us bring a friend on this type of getaway. But I knew I was supposed to go alone. I felt it. And In a way, I think it excited me to do something a little scary and put full trust in Jesus to be my companion.
I’d only been back in Arkansas for a couple of weeks but I’d been to the Buffalo River area twice already. I swear, it’s God’s country up there and I’ve been desperate to reach him and to feel his presence in a physical, right before my eyes, kind of way.
The rolling hills, fog covered tree lines, moss speckled bluffs and laughing creeks just do something to your soul. It’s small town, quiet, quaint. It’s dirt roads set to a Fleet Foxes song. It’s the smell of campfire on your hair and the dewy mist of rain dripping tree canopies. It’s the sound of Dad’s paddle hitting the water. It’s the 50 mile stretch of sky that takes your breath away. It’s my favorite part of my state. It’s home.
So when I decided I would take some time alone with the Lord, I knew where I was going, I just had to figure out where I was staying.
I wanted a view and a cabin and solitude and the feeling of being away. After way too long of searching, I came across a small cabin dropped right in the middle of prairie grass on all sides. There would be horses, rolling hills and a view of the sunset. Perfect.
It was off a dirt road, near a couple of waterfall hikes I wanted to hit (thank you Time Ernst) and was far enough out that there wouldn’t be service and there wouldn’t be Wi-Fi. So I shared my location with a couple of trusted friends, told them to ring the alarm if they didn’t hear from me in a few days, and went along my way.
The forecast was set to storms. Not my favorite. But ideal weather for waterfall finding and cooled down the temperature enough to give me that cozy cabin feel.
When I drove up to the cabin, I took one look at it. Stopped the car. And sat for a second. It was. In fact. A house upon a hill. Just like the song. It looked like an Andrew Wyeth painting set up just for me. I could feel the symbolism bouncing off the walls of my heart. Jesus was going to meet me in there.
I didn’t actually go in at that point, I just wanted to know where it was so I could start mapping out how to get back. I had waterfalls to chase.
The first hike I did was deep in the woods to the left of the cabin. I followed a dirt road for a couple of miles with windows down. Playing folk music, I let my hair dance wildly in the wind and smiled as raindrops fell through the sunroof on my skin. Not a person in sight.
When I got to the trailhead, it was a descending hike down, rocky, muddy, jungle. The trail was a little overgrown and as I hopped over creeks and balanced on long logs to avoid the water, I realized I was deep in the woods and I was all alone.
I started to ask Jesus what he wanted to talk about and I heard him say he wanted to talk about my soul and my spirit. It would be just like us to go deep real fast.
He hit me with the big stuff quick telling me I had been in a state of wanting and he needed me to settle at Him and his provision being enough. Giving me a vision of Him with the disciples he reminded me that in order to walk with him and to show others how to walk with Him I would need to be unwavering, steady, not wanting anything more than what I currently have, trusting, content.
I like it when Jesus gets on to me a little bit. It reminds me that he is just as much Father as he is friend and in his constant pursuit of my heart, He will mold me and it will sting sometimes but it’s only because He knows what’s on the other side of fear of change and he can see the bright light that I can’t.
I smiled. I love it when I hear from him.
As I kept walking, I came across some beautiful bluffs that jutted out like crooked noses and hid little caves and twisted trees and lots of critters. A natural playground, I thought.
Further down, the path became more unclear as I heard the rushing sound of the waterfall. As I curved around I could see that I was at the top of the fall instead of the bottom. It looked like it was possible to climb down but wouldn’t be easy and I’d have to cross the stream in order to get to the other side of the bluff where I could scale a few rocks and hop down.
Where I stood was a flat slab of rock with about four inches of water that rushed over and fell about 40 feet. It sounds intense, but it didn’t really feel that way and I expected to walk across the stream steady. Confident and maybe a little ignorant, I started to walk excitedly to cross the stream. Phone in hand, I was snapping photos like a ditzy tourist high on this experience of hiking alone with Jesus. And in the heart leap of it all, before I knew it, my feet lost traction and I was on my palms with my rear and legs sliding toward the edge.
It was mossy, slick, flat, moving.
I shouldn’t have stopped. All physics point towards me sliding off the edge and over the cliff onto the rocks below. But my heels dug in a few inches from the drop and as my heart beat out of my chest I crawled carefully to dry rock and sat in disbelief for a few minutes.
I’m alone. No one would even know I was here. I could have died. But I didn’t. Because You are with me.
It was one of those times like when you fall and no one sees and you kind of want to laugh because it’s such a strange thing and you know telling the story won’t provide the impact of what really happened. So you get up and move along with your day and escape the humiliation unscathed.
Believe it or not, that didn’t keep me from making my way across and down to get a better view of the waterfall. I felt pretty invincible at that point.
Once I made it down, I realized the sky was getting darker and rain started to pelt down in big sheets. Since I was below, I was able to sit under a bluff and wait out the rain. Another opportunity to sit in stillness (nowhere else to go) and spend time with Jesus. I sat, He sat too. We watched the rain and the waterfall and the vibrant greens before us. We listened to the wind and the splats and smelled the earthiness that gives you a sense that what you are experiencing is timeless. It might sound funny the way I’m describing this, but I promise, He was there with me. We were waiting out the rain together.
It was only about three pm when I made it back to my car so I decided to find another waterfall hike. This one was in the opposite direction of the first. Another dirt road, another long folky drive. Lot’s of darting chipmunks and soaring birds. Passed a few teeny cabins. Saw not a soul.
You could basically drive up to the first fall so this one felt less hidden on the first look but to the left was a winding trail that crawled up the mountainside alongside the creek. As you walk it, you get delighted by another and another and another waterfall. There is even a good-sized one that fills up a swimming hole. Delightful!
I truly felt like this spot was a hidden waterpark perfect for swimming, playing and climbing. It was the first time I wished I had friends with me. “I’ll come back,” I thought.
I kept walking down the path and ran into my next heart attack in the form of a baby copperhead. He was still. Eyes on my feet. I was still, eyes on him. I thought back to the story of my fellow racer, Mary Grace, and how she got bit by a baby copperhead on her birthday and ended up in the hospital. I didn’t have time for that and there would be no one to get me there anyway.
I stayed calm. Hopped over him like a jack rabbit and kept going thinking “Good God the Devil is trying to kill me today.” Laughed a little.
The winding trail went on for a while and I ran into beautiful balancing rocks and picturesque little pools and creeks. It was hard to know when to stop to enjoy the view because the views were without number. But I was getting tired and I wanted to string up my hammock and rest a while, enjoying the sound of the creek and the shade of the forest canopy.
I chose a place right next to the water and close enough to the trail that I wouldn’t lose my place and about five minutes into my hammock rest I fell asleep. My eyelids were heavy and the woods were so peaceful and the temperature was just right.
I couldn’t have been asleep for more than 15 minutes.
Startled by some cracking sticks and shushing leaves I opened one eye, a natural defense. You can hardly believe it, but guess what I saw?
A dang Bobcat staring me down like a dessert buffet. My first thought was “That’s a big cat.” And my second, more awake thought was “Holy Cow, that’s a Bobcat!” “I’ve never even seen one in real life!”
His eyes were on me and he froze. Head down, shoulders up, curious. I think we scared each other, really. The only reaction that came out of me was to clap as loudly as I could to scare him off. It worked. Crisis averted.
At this point, I just had to chuckle. What a strange day. All the things my Mother was worried about happening to me deep in the woods were, in fact, happening, but I was ok all the same. Thank you, Jesus.
It was an adventure and I hadn’t even gotten to the cabin yet. It was like Jesus was showing me how to exist and keep going even through fear, even when scary things happened, even when danger presented itself. Would I trust Him? Would I keep exploring or would I get scared away?
I prayed and thanked him for the excitement and the safety as I walked back to the car. Tired.
When I entered the cabin I realized it was open. There wasn’t a lock on the front door. “Of course, haha,” I thought.
It was all wood, lofted, quilts on the beds, cast iron skillets hung up – exactly what you’d think. There were a few big hundred year old trees outside the windows and a pond way beyond in the back. Up, off the loft was a deck that overlooked the western skyline.
I was expectant.
What did Jesus want to tell me here?
I spent some time reading, writing and trying to put my thoughts in order. I had questions that were pointed like “Do you still want me to return to the race? And when? And what do you want me to do in the meantime, anything specific?”
My whole goal in coming up here and spending this solo adventure was to get answers to those questions. I remember thinking “I’m going to feel really silly if I told everyone I was headed out here to get answers and I don’t get any.”
There was some shuffling. I got up to get a drink. Unpacked some things from the car. Snacked. Went to the bathroom. It seemed like I was having a hard time getting into that “stillness” with Jesus. I remembered my friend Andrea telling me that if I didn’t know what to do and I got restless, to worship.
It was about 8:30 pm, and the sun had started to wrap up for the day. I remembered the view from the top balcony and headed up there. Oddly, there was no furniture. Not a stick of it.
It was a bare platform with railing. A simple stage. Space to walk around and nothing to distract me. “Ok Jesus, I get the picture.”
The view was beautiful. Very Pride and Prejudice. Very romantic. Again I thought, “I wish I was sharing this with someone” and then quickly was reminded, “Oh that’s right, I am.”
I put on some instrumental music and started to worship and pray. As I looked out over the landscape I watched as the pink and yellow and blue shadows behind the clouds illuminated the sky and shifted and moved like a show.
Sunsets do something to me. Like a connection to heaven, they are an otherworldly live painting different each evening, the finale of the day. They are strange and beautiful and colorful and amazing. They are the climax of all the light we enjoy as we work and love and live and it’s as if God is saying “Sweet Dreams” as he leaves us with a colorful, creative send off into rest and sleep.
I was on a stage and His painting was the backdrop to my worship. It felt like a present just for me. Something no one else would see. It was just ours.
As I stared out over the view, I heard “I’m madly in love with you,” and like a montage of extraordinary proportion I was hit with the love of a king, a savior, a father, a friend and a lover – all at once. I was reminded of the extraordinary beauty of my salvation, of the cross, of the sacrifice and of the blessing of family, friends, relationship and love. I thought of creation and the earth and the flowers and the stars and how they are long and cursive written love letters from our creator.
It’s hard to explain really. All I know is that the realization brought me to tears and then to my knees and then to my face. Palms up and forehead to the ground I wept and cried out, “I don’t deserve you.”
I came to the House on a Hill to get alone with Jesus for answers. It was a cerebral pursuit. I needed knowledge, direction, marching orders. I was prepared to sit at a table with him and take notes. I was prepared for general Jesus.
But as I’m often reminded, no matter how much I pursue the cerebral, He will always pursue my heart first. He will want me in the softness, in the quiet, in the places where emotion meets surrender. He will ask me to hand over my insecurities, my loneliness and my feelings of purposelessness. He will hold on to those so I don’t have to. He will desire that I fall in love with Him over and over again before I do a single thing. He will woo me and sprinkle reminders of his grace and blessing over my memories. He will stand next to me, hold my hand and promise to never leave.
And he’ll do this because my surrender and my heart is the best Yes he can ask for.
My prayer that night as I let the waterfall of emotion and deep devotion roll over me in waves was “My heart is yours. My life is yours. I’ll go wherever you ask me to and I’ll live however you want me to and I’ll trust you when I don’t understand.”
Jesus never gave me my black and white answers. Instead we spent the rest of the evening looking back at prayers that had been said over me before I left for the Race and making a list of all that were answered. I smiled as prophesies shared with me before had come true. We sat on the porch with whiskey in hand and watched as lightening spread over the prairie and I journaled about how God had met me and wrecked my heart in the best way.
As I sorted through my sunset experience I realized that though I didn’t get specific answers to my questions, I got so much more. The Holy Spirit led me to a realization that without my devotion, my Yes, my overwhelming understanding of the cross and my renewed surrender, I would be less effective in the ministry I’ve been called to. I needed to get wrecked. Again. And I’ll probably need that again and again over my lifetime. We all do.
How am I to show and live out and communicate the love of Jesus if it no longer brings me to my knees and to tears? We all need to get brought back to the ground floor time and time again. It is a place of beautiful surrender to our King. It is a place of vulnerability and open heartedness and closeness to the character of Jesus.
It is a place I pray we all get to and it’s the place I pray that my squad leads people to.
I can’t say where and when we’ll be going but I can say we’ll be going. And I can’t say who will be going and how we’ll be going but I can say we are working on the details and your prayers are much needed as we navigate them. I feel lit up in ways I couldn’t have been before and I know that my calling remains – to the nations. So I’ll be pursuing finishing the World Race internationally and continuing to pray about what happens after that.
My sabbatical ended with a surprise phone call from my Doctor confirming that I was healthy enough to go back out on the race. That’s another story, but it was the last kick of confirmation that I needed to hear. And remember? I didn’t have service in the House Upon the Hill. Cheeky Jesus.
I played the song as I drove away feeling blessed and known and loved and cuddled by my Father.
“Allow me to introduce myself again
I’m the love you used to think could not exist
I’m as sure as where you’re standing and as free as the wind
You don’t have to reach for me, cause this is where I am
I am. I am. I am.
I’ll meet you
In the house upon the hill
How I want to
Show you I am real”
