“Say to this mountain…”

In reply Jesus said to the disciples, “If you only have faith in God—this is the absolute truth—you can say to this Mount of Olives, ‘Rise up and fall into the Mediterranean,’ and your command will be obeyed. All that’s required is that you really believe and have no doubt! (Mark 11:22-23– The Living Bible)

Have you ever said to a mountain– “Rise up and fall into the Mediterranean?” I doubt any of us have done so. But is that what Jesus really meant when He gave this instruction to His disciples? What was He really trying to say?

The Bible is crammed full of literary devices– metaphors, parables, hyperbole, personification–and yet people get criticized for reading it too “literally” or too “literarily.” In this passage, Jesus uses hyperbole to show that we can boldly pray about ANYTHING– there is nothing too big or too impossible for God to accomplish. But Jesus is not suggesting that we foolishly ask God for ridiculous things just to demonstrate His power. In fact, Satan tempted Jesus in this very way in the desert (see Matthew 4:1-11 and Luke 4:1-13). He asked Jesus to throw Himself off the highest point of the Temple, to prove that angels would come to His rescue and He wouldn’t be hurt. But Jesus rebuked him, saying, “it is also written, ‘Do not put the LORD your God to the test.'” So, it seems that Jesus is not “literally” asking His disciples to move physical mountains just to prove it can be done.

To put this scene in context, Jesus had passed by the same road just a day before, and looking for a snack, He had passed a fig tree, but the tree had no fruit. Jesus casually made a pronouncement– “You shall never bear fruit again!” When He and the disciples pass that way again just a day later, the tree has withered, and the disciples are astonished. But the lesson here is not about trees and mountains– it is about Faith and about the power of our Words.

We may never have cause to move an actual mountain, but there are many metaphorical “mountains” that we must climb or go around in life. And many people will sneer at Jesus’s assurance that if we have faith, such mountains can be told to “Rise up and fall into the Mediterranean.” That cancer diagnosis; the horrible boss at work; those medical bills that seem impossible to pay off; the pain of abandonment when your spouse demands a divorce– we can pray fervently, tearfully, desperately, only to see the mountain seem just as immovable as ever.

So, what DOES Jesus really mean? Is He lying about the power of faith? Is He setting us up to pray for disappointment? What can we learn from the mountain analogy? What can we learn from the fig tree?

I don’t have a complete or definitive answer. But I can share a couple of insights. As I said above, I don’t believe the lesson here is about the tree or the mountain. It’s about Faith, the power of words, and ultimately, about perspective.

Let’s start with the tree. Jesus is hungry. He goes to a tree, where he hopes to find a fig. But the tree offers nothing. Jesus could walk away, grumbling about the tree. “Stupid tree! I wanted a fig, but NOOOO!” What a childish outburst that would have been. And I have been guilty of this very kind of silly complaining and grumbling over a car that doesn’t start, or a weed that pops up in my garden, or a co-worker who said something that hurt my feelings. Notice what Jesus DID– He addressed the tree. He did not complain to the gardener or punch the tree trunk or rant in the street or spend the rest of the day nursing His disappointment. By the next day He had completely forgotten the incident– it was His disciples who were still interested in the tree. Jesus had moved on.

How often do I wallow in hurt, frustration, or guilt? How often do I replay conversations in my head, or waste time trying to assign blame for my circumstances? How often do I go behind someone’s back to complain, instead of asking for clarification or confronting a misunderstanding? How long do I chase down an apology or an explanation from someone else for my own hurt feelings and bruised ego? Jesus asks us to be proactive–to speak up in prayer, in conversation, and yes, sometimes even in confrontation.

A final thought about the withered fig tree. The same Jesus who used His words to heal lepers and forgive sins, used His words to wither the fig tree that had not served Him. He did not scorch the fig tree or take and ax to it and chop it down, but in judgment, He caused the tree to wither. Jesus had the power to judge the Pharisees, the demons who tormented people, the tax collectors with whom He dined, and the prostitutes He forgave. With a single breath, He could have destroyed the Roman oppressors, wiped out the corrupt priests, and cleaned up the masses of beggars and thieves of Jerusalem. But instead, He told stories. He fed the hungry. He gave sight to the blind. And He warned the hypocrites of the judgment to come if they did not repent. Words are so very powerful. What we say, (and what we listen to) we will come to believe. The Bible tells us that “Nothing is impossible with God.” (Luke 1:37; Matthew 19:26)

The disciples were focused on the fig tree when Jesus dropped a bombshell pronouncement. “Say to this mountain…” But it wasn’t about the mountain. It was about the “impossible” power of God. It was about looking beyond the mountain and addressing the real obstacle– lack of faith and perspective.

The Apostle Paul spoke of a “thorn in the flesh” (see 2 Corinthians 12:7-10). Three times he prayed that God would remove it, and God said, “No.” But God also gave Paul a different perspective– it wasn’t about the “thorn,” it was about pride. Paul’s continuing struggle with his “thorn” meant that he had to rely on God’s power to overcome his physical weakness. Paul’s “mountain” of pain could have stopped him from doing God’s work. But God moved the real “mountain”– Paul’s reliance on his own passion and drive– and threw it into the sea, so that Paul could move on in his real purpose.

In a very small way, I had a “mountain moving” lesson years ago at work. I clashed with my “new” boss. I found her verbally harsh toward my fellow co-workers, and I disagreed with her vision for the future of our workplace. I campaigned and complained, and I prayed that God would expose her corruption and remove her from our workplace. But it wasn’t about the “mountain” I saw in my boss. God moved me (and later her) out of that job and into new opportunities. And He showed me how my own attitude had contributed to the problem and not the solution. I had to track her down and apologize for MY actions and forgive her. And suddenly, the “mountain” I had made of the situation was gone! But I had to come to the point of believing that God would remove the actual “mountain” and not the one I had created.

In larger ways, I have seen cancer patients who have thrived in spite of their condition; I have seen others pronounced cancer-free. I have seen lost family members restored to Faith and relationships healed. I have seen God’s provision and protection in seemingly impossible situations. God CAN move mountains! And God WILL make a way, where there seems to be no way! But I have to ask, and believe, instead of complaining and isolating, or hiding in the shadow of my own “mountains.”

Will I believe that today, even when I can’t see how He will do it? Will I ASK Him to move my mountains– both large and small? Will I ask God to show me all that is possible through His power? In His way and in His time? Will I ask Him, not just for what I think I want or need, but for ANYTHING that HE wants for me? Because when I do, when I turn my focus from the mountain to the Mover of Mountains– Amazing things WILL happen!

“Sheepish” Prayers

“The Lord is my Shepherd…” (Psalm 23: 1)

How often do I recite this favorite Psalm without really thinking about it? In the words of this Psalm, I am loved, cherished, sustained, and led by Him. But am I in reality? Do I submit to His leadership and guidance? When I pray, am I really coming to meet with my Shepherd, or am I trying to meet with God on some other level or in some other relationship?

I’ve been reading through the first few books of the Bible. I’m in Numbers right now, and Moses is leading the Israelites through the wilderness. The spies have just returned from Canaan, and the people have rebelled against God, weeping and accusing God of leading them to the Promised Land only to have them die in battle with the giants of the land.

I read through this and shake my head, but haven’t I done similar things in my walk with God? I want to avoid the wilderness. I want to walk in the green pastures, but I don’t want to travel through the valley of the shadow of death to get there! I look at obstacles and setbacks as though God were sitting far away, arms akimbo, laughing at my struggles; in reality, He is right beside me all the way, waiting to help me overcome each obstacle and gain victory together with Him. I’m looking at the giants, when He wants me to trust Him for the milk and honey He has promised. I still have to face the giants, and the battles ahead– but I don’t have to face them alone. I don’t have to face them in my own strength, my own limited wisdom, or my limited vision.

But here’s what I am learning as I read through this section of the Bible right now:

God IS with me. He doesn’t leave me or give me anything HE can’t handle. But I have to walk through the wilderness. I have to fight battles. I have to face giants. I have to learn to trust for my daily bread– whether it is manna or money to buy bread–daily. I have to listen to His voice; not impose my plans and ask for Him to bless them.

God doesn’t want me wrapped up or caged: He will not take away my freedom to follow (or NOT follow) Him. And when I wander, He may allow me to wander in circles for a while (hopefully not forty years!), but He will still be right there, ready to lead me when He sees that I am ready to move forward.

He will supply all that I really need– water from the rock, bread from Heaven– not because I have the money or resources, I think I’ve earned, but because He IS my provider. He can part the Red Sea; He can destroy Pharaoh’s armies. He can make the earth swallow up those who threaten me and defy Him. I am safe, even in the wilderness, when I stay close to the Shepherd!

He will counsel and correct me. He will offer forgiveness again and again. He will not leave me lost or unable to return to His side. He will be a “Presence” in my life, wherever I go– day or night.

He sees me and He hears me– which is both comforting and fear-inducing. But it is a healthy fear; an awesome and reverent fear; one that keeps me humble. After all, I am a sheep, NOT the Shepherd! I can call out to Him, and He knows where I am (because He is right there, too), and He knows what I need. God saw the Israelites worshipping the Golden Calf even as He was speaking to Moses up on the mountain. God heard Moses as he pleaded for mercy, even in His anger and wrath.

He calls me by name. The Bible, especially the Old Testament, is full of individual names. Not just the ones we study in Sunday School; not just the ones in the children’s stories; but names of the leaders of the various tribes of Israel, and names of the spies, names of craftsmen God had selected to build the Ark and all the items needed for the Tabernacle, and names of those who rebelled. I am not lost in the crowd; I am not forgotten among the many. God knows me intimately– just as He knows you!

Even when my prayers seem like whining, bleating, plaintive “baa-ing”, I know my Shepherd hears. And He delights to hear from me. He delights in leading me through the wilderness and providing for my every need. And His promises sustain me when I don’t know what’s coming next, or I fear what I see on the horizon.

So I will pray today, and tomorrow, and every day, knowing that even my– especially my– “sheepish” prayers are not in vain.

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