His Glorious Peace Awaits

I’ve been snow skiing for at least ten years and yet I wouldn’t call myself a skier.  I’m more of a faller, a roller or sometimes, just a snow-covered whiner.  If I’m honest, I really want to abandon the efforts to enjoy a sport my four sons love.  I’d rather be making hot chocolate in a cabin somewhere rather than making pizza wedges with my skis, facing what feels like impending knee surgery.

I skied the first day in my usual, clunky form, inching down the slopes, begging God to keep me safe. When the clock struck 3 o’clock I was delighted to trade those long, skinny death threats for my comfy house slippers. 

For the next two days I wrestled with the decision to ski again, which is quite unusual for me.  I sensed my ongoing fear was robbing me of something awesome. On the last day of the trip, I surprised my sons by announcing I would give it one more go.

Tired and worn out from tackling the slopes for the last three days, I found no companions to join me on the final day, except my eight-year-old son (who is already a much better and more confident skier than his momma!)  We bundled up and jumped on a chair lift.  I’d be lying if I suggested all my fear was gone as we chatted on the five-minute ride to the top of the tiny hill.  I gave it my best shot and felt as if I might live to tell about it.

On the last run of the day, my son suggested a tiny, unmarked path through some trees. I protested but he didn’t listen.  I hardly think it’s a smart idea to disappear into a tree trail when you’re a weak skier on route with a little kid but I was trailing and had little choice but to follow. I’m grateful I did.

Nestled in those trees was the most magnificent sight I’ve ever seen. It was a perfect picture of peace. And my heart felt it.

We ventured along a skinny trail carefully carved through perfectly powdered snow, with no other skiers in sight.  Tall trees gently caped in white lined the trail and dropped light snow as we passed.  A misplaced rabbit, a small empty shack in the distance, and breathtaking silence as the afternoon sun peeked through small openings in the branches. I just stood there for a moment and praised God for the amazing work of His hands. Truly, His glory is displayed in creation.  I teared up trying to explain to my son how humbled I was to witness His beauty in nature. My little guy allowed me to pause to soak it all in before continuing back onto a busier slope.

If I had succumbed to my ongoing fear, I would have certainly missed the marvel on the mountain.  If I hadn’t followed my young guide, I would have missed the quiet assurance of the Father’s presence in my fear.

The truth is, when we push through fear and trust the One in front of us, we get to experience the incredible.

What uncertainty are you facing? What blessing are you missing because you’re afraid to trust Jesus with your fears?  He is able to lead you, to guide you, to bring you to a place where His beauty and majesty calm your troubled heart. It may be a way you’ve never taken before, but it is worth it.

So friend, strap on your skis and brave life’s mountain with the Maker of Heaven and Earth. His glorious peace awaits.


About Kim Heinecke   Read more by this author...

Kim Heinecke wants to live in a world where children listen to the advice of their mothers without question. As a former single mom she’s been encouraging women using her life experiences in parenting, growing in the Word of God and everything in between. When she’s not negotiating with a teenager or wrestling a pre-schooler, you can find her camping in the family RV or pretending to understand sports with her husband and four sons. Read more from Kim at www.TheMomExperiment.com.

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