The Mountain of God

I moved to Tennessee nearly four years ago, and have since hiked my share of mountains. Coming from the flatlands of central Indiana I quickly gained an appreciation for variable terrain. When I need time away from the stress and busyness of life, I often make the forty minute drive to the Smoky Mountains. Here, away from the rush of meetings, traffic, cell phones, email, text messaging and up-to-the-minute newscasts, I best reconnect with God. Sometimes I hike for miles—exploring pathways, leaping from rocks, swimming under waterfalls. Other times I’m content sitting at the foot of a mountain in silence, never even venturing towards the summit.

I’d like to visit other mountains as well—Everest, Kilimanjaro, the Rockies, the Alps—but if I could visit only one mountain I’d choose Horeb. The Bible calls Horeb “the mountain of God.” You can’t find Horeb on a map, but it shows up frequently in the Scriptures. If God had a pulpit in the Bible it may have been Mount Horeb. It’s where He speaks—first to a nomadic shepherd named Moses, later to a downtrodden prophet named Elijah.

Interestingly, on Mount Horeb God’s communication styles wax polar opposite. After wandering in the desert for forty years Moses finds God in a fire—an un-burning, burning bush to be precise. And though Moses questioned his own competence before God, he never questioned whether it was indeed God with whom he spoke. Would you have doubted God’s voice? I’ve witnessed a lot of people attempting to pose as God, even speak for Him, but none have ever cast their voice through ineffective fire.

So when Elijah arrives on Mount Horeb in 1 Kings 19, desperately needing to hear God’s voice after a forty day flight from the wicked Jezebel, it would make sense to find God in a similar fashion. And indeed, Elijah looks for God in the obvious—fire. He also searches in a fierce wind and ferocious earthquake, but God shows up only in a paltry whisper. Let’s be honest for a moment, life is surrounded by too much obvious; too much extravagance. I’ve seen so many fires, winds, and earthquakes that after a while they all bleed together. As I sit outside a coffee shop in downtown Knoxville I spot hundreds of advertisements in a matter of seconds, all screaming for my attention, prostituting themselves before me in hopes that I will buy, eat, drink, or experience. If in the next three seconds God lit the bush directly to my right on fire and unfolded His plan for my life before me, there’s a good chance I would miss it altogether.

So while God occasionally speaks through the obvious; He often speaks from within the subtle. I often pray for grandiose signs and audible advice, but I find Him most in the gentle whispers. In fact, I can count my number of burning bush experiences on one hand—my need to commit my life to Jesus; my call to ministry; a few intense moments of prayer and repentance come directly to mind. Whispers, on the other hand, I hear those almost daily in the kind words of a friend, the smile of a stranger, a good meal, a beautiful sunset, steady rain, the lady who let me into the flow of traffic, a powerful song, a warm embrace, a time of prayer, a page of Scripture.

So I guess I do visit Mount Horeb. We all do. We visit every time we humble ourselves enough to listen for the unyielding voice of God over our daily noise and weekly worries. God continues to speak, both in fires and in whispers. Are you listening for His still, small voice?

Welcome to Mount Horeb.