The Tale of The Rattler

Katie and I are “in the mountains” and on a mountain in North Carolina. Through a small window between tree branches, the crest of another mountain not too far from here is visible. It’s beautiful and inviting, But we can’t get there without going down this mountain, through the valley below, and up the other mountainside.

That valley happens to be part of the area devastated by Hurricane Helene a few years ago. The valley is not within view, but the rushing water below is well within earshot.

This log cabin retreat, where Katie and I honeymooned and have returned to six more times in 19 years, was spared damage from the hurricane. And yet, no one could get here because of what happened in the valley town of Hot Springs, NC, below. We are thrilled to see so much progress made even in the last few months.

The mountain draws much from its surrounding valleys. The mountaintop experience is meaningless without the darkness and uncertainty of the valley. . . and the journey, up and down, can be treacherous and slow. In fact, there was one trip that we nearly did not complete, just a few miles from the cabin on a rainy early morning.

I wrote about it in my journal, and I think it’s best to quote that entry:

July 2, 2012 – Hot Springs Log Cabins, NC

Katie and I are alive. God saved us from death at 4:00 AM today on a dark mountain road. On July 1st at 8:00 AM, we left New York City after the Jesus Culture Conference, which took place between June 28 to June 30.
I drove a 12-passenger van carrying Katie, [I removed other names for their privacy] to Fayetteville, NC, and then our Toyota Avalon from Fayetteville to Hot Springs. 

The conference had been used by God to break down and rebuild my heart's framework, and by 4:00 AM, I was exhausted in every way possible. 

As we rounded a curve, we were met by a downed tree, about 15" in diameter, partially cracked and completely blocking both lanes. 

 

As I got out of our car to investigate, I heard rushing water to the right of the road, although I could not see it. I began to use a large broken branch to leverage the tree and slide it out of the way as it was not going to be manageable otherwise. With each few inches, I thanked God for moving the tree. After about four pushes, Katie said something about a car, and I looked up to see headlights round the corner in the oncoming lane. I felt sudden relief and excitement because I had a sensation or thought that the people in the car would help move the tree... And he did. I realized the driver did not see me, our car, or the tree. I dropped the branch, stepped back off the road and watched a van slam on brakes, slide into the tree and stop just shy of our car. At the same time (and this is where God's awesome power is evident) the tree split in two. The side of the tree on our side of the road spun and rolled into the Avalon, pushing it back—straight back—and the rest of the tree was pushed to the other side of the road. No part of the tree touched me, although I was standing right next to it. There was no visible damage to our car, whatsoever. I had a small scratch on my leg, but nothing serious.
There was no cell service, lights, or safe place to pull over. We all left, the road now clear (the driver of the other car left after saying he was not hurt), and Katie and I continued the last five minutes of what had been a 20-hour trip from New York City. 

God saved our lives. I could have been hit by that van and the tree, and Katie and our car could have been rolled down the mountain into whatever rushing water was beside us. We would not be alive, but God saved us. He rescued us. He protected us. He preserved us. He loves us.”

The next day, we drove to the site of that event and the atoms in my body rearranged when I realized that had I jumped or stepped off of the road even a few more inches, I would have fallen off a cliff into shallow water on a rock bed below. There was no guard rail. There was barely a shoulder. So many things could have. . . should have gone differently, and this is why I am convinced God’s hand was holding us both that morning. To top it all off, this took place on what is called “The Rattler.” 290 curves along 24 miles of mountain roads. We have since discovered another way to the cabin which we make every trip since. 

Most of you are probably wondering why we’d ever come back. I would, too. We come back because that experience in the valley and up the mountainside strengthened our faith more than the actual mountaintop experience once we arrived. To be fair, the mountaintop experience is always worth the drive!

We cannot steward mountaintop experiences without learning to trust the Holy Spirit on the way through the valley. That is where we learn to follow His Spirit, to trust The Father, and to recognize and follow the Light of Jesus. If all we do is stay on mountaintops, we grow stagnant, disconnected, self-focused, and ineffective. There are others living in the valleys who need the Light of Jesus. When we take the risk of following Him on the journey, He brings us alongside others to invite along the pathway to the top, and they get to experience the same thing we do: dependence on and relationship with God in all circumstances.