I am literally “feeling” my age these days of 2021 – especially now that I’m on the “other side of the hill”.  Desserts are now replaced with more-friends-than-food at my side, gifts are now the intangible, full moments past and present, decorations are the wrinkles, fat and grey hair that bear witness to all those past intangible, full moments…with thankfulness.

I, for one, am happy to know that I am reaching the point where I have lived longer than I will live in the future years (unless I live to be 126-years-old).  Having never been fearful of death, I don’t, at this point, have any desire to live longer than I should…and in fact, am happier to be the age I am than at any other time in my life.

God has been, is, and will been a friend to me, gone the “extra mile” and continues to shock me with His graciousness which I have still to figure out…as little as I have done for Him in return.

To be a Believer & Follower on the “other-side-of-the-hill” is to look back, to observe God and oneself from a distance, and continue to learn.

I climbed up the hill, aiming to reach the summit quickly…by travelling straight for it.

In my rush to reach the pinnacle, to “grow up”, I missed some beautiful sights.  Sure, I had the strength then to grab an outcropping of rock when I needed to and pull myself up.  Yes, I could look back at the sunset of each day and see what I had accomplished.  Sure,  it’s good to have goals, make a plan and work the plan, but along the way I may have passed up times I didn’t need to move so quickly.  In my effort to go, go, go…I have missed the goal completely sometimes.  God’s request that I love Him is played out by loving those He has placed in my path – and, unfortunately, sometimes the path was more important than those who took up space on the path.

I find that now that I’m on the other side going down instead of up, I zigzag – partially to keep from falling down!  

Now the path is just as steep, but I am going down, not up.  I’ve learned, there is more to be seen and experienced by not racing down the hill.  And the truth is, I’ll reach the bottom when the time is right, till then I should enjoy the path and the people on it…not going straight down but covering the entire width of the hill and all it has to offer.

When I climbed up, my goal was the summit.

Searching for a “mountain-top” experience was often the goal of my younger self.  Now I realize that those experiences happen, are serendipitous and not always a result of planning. I accept them and enjoy them when they come, but as I now see the valley below, I realize that every part of the hill has something to offer.  The path is of God’s creation, He has gone ahead of me, and it is cleared and made especially for me…who am I to deviate from His map?  Getting OVER the mountaintop is the actual goal…partially because the air is so thin at the top, no one could stay there for long.

As my younger self ascended the hill, I had no choice but to empty my pack of things that were too heavy. 

Now that I am over the summit, I’m finding that I do not even miss the things I threw out of my pack…and so, am only holding on to the things that might be helpful to someone else along the way.  I tend to be a hoarder, in part because the things I collect around me have meaning and are memory-holders.  But, in truth, middle age has brought me to the learning stage that tells me how little I need.  And also, my joy, my life, my journey is more fulfilling (once again) when I pay attention to the people on the path…and it’s good to have things with you which connect you with them.  That it may be something they need is just a part of why those things are necessary.  Connection with others is the important thing.

Now that I am closer to valley, I can see that it has a gate. 

The journey on the hill has shown me that there is more than one hill, but I couldn’t see that until I got “over-the-hill”.  When I was climbing, my thought was that my life would end once I got over the summit…now that I AM over the summit, I’m glad to see that there is still more, and there will be more…especially after I walk through the gate in the garden in the valley.

 Thanks to all whose paths cross my path, who walk the path with me, who have carried my pack for me, who have guarded me when I have slept and mended me when I have fallen.  To the ones who travel with me, by blood or by choice, I am who I am because of you and your love.  And to The Shepherd who leads and asks me to follow: I am just beginning to make out the melody You’ve been singing, and look forward to a continuing journey filled with many more years on this path, and unfathomable moments beyond the gate.

If I attended a wedding and, sitting in the pew listening to the minister, heard and watched him turn to the couple and say, “The most important thing is communication, through the good and the bad, communication with your spouse is the most important thing.”

I would say a silent “Amen”.

But if I then heard and saw the minister continue by handing them a book and saying,
“Here is a biography of your spouse.  Whenever you wish to find out what they’re thinking or how they are going to react, simply read this and you’ll know.  Everything you need to know about your spouse is right here.”
I would…along with most everyone in the ceremony, wonder at the mental health of said minister.  And perhaps THEN someone wouldn’t be so silent.  Someone (probably NOT me) might stand and say, “Why don’t they just talk to each other…isn’t THAT a better way to get to know someone; a better way to communicate?”  Then, of course, there would be a general hub-bub and the wedding would end in shambles with at least one member of the wedding party, along with the minister, crying and running off.

But seriously, how ridiculous would it be if anyone told me or you that the best way to get to know someone we love, or communicate with someone, is to read about them?  Especially when they are there and can be DIRECTLY communicated with.  And yet, many Believers & Followers of Jesus do that exact thing.

I just heard someone (a faith-filled Believer & Follower) say they had so many questions and found themselves lost…so they searched the scripture for answers to their very specific questions.  Now hear me, this person is by all observances a very wonderful and strong person-of-faith…but part of me wanted to step in and say, “Why don’t you just ASK Him?”

Also hear me when I say, the Scripture is a Holy Book, it is sacred because of its place in our lives as Believers & Followers, it is a great place to find precedent for questions and answers about life. HOWEVER Jesus says in the scripture (and Paul underscores what Jesus says) is that we now have direct access to THE PERSON in this great BIOGRAPHY: God Himself.  All questions, all love, all thanks, could be directed PRIMARILY and DIRECTLY to Him.

The argument many Christians give, AGAINST this idea, is that I can’t trust the voice I’m hearing is God’s – when my “filter” is “human” and “sinful”.  In other words, how do I know it’s God speaking and not just my own voice or imagination?  How do I know I’m not justifying my own agenda and giving God the credit?

The answer? Faith.

The theological argument that says I can’t trust that I’m hearing God speak is one I’d like to try on Moses, Elijah, King David, Joseph, Daniel, Paul…etc.  In other words, I’d like to hear from the WRITERS of the scripture about their process in hearing God.  Surely these guys were hearing through a human and sinful filter as well...how did they know, or did they, that God was speaking and they weren’t just their own voices?

We, as Believers & Followers, don’t always make use of the Spirit like we should.  It is the Spirit, not the Scripture (according to Jesus) who leads us into all Truth.  It is through Jesus, not the Scripture, that we have access to the Great Throne.

The Scripture has purpose, it is Holy and Sacred, it is our primary text, as Believers & Followers, regarding who we are and who He is.  I also realize that the Spirit of Jesus the King will speak in any way we will listen, and for some that is through the scripture.  But that should not be our ONLY way to know God, and should not be an excuse for unexercised faith.  It should not be an excuse for NOT praying/speaking directly to the One who leads, teaches, provides, protects and loves us.  I know far too many people who would far rather use the scripture as a rule book than actually have a real conversation with  God, who is far more merciful and gracious than they are comfortable with.  I know far too many people who use the scripture as a “Magic 8-Ball” because it’s easier than trusting their spiritual ears and eyes...because getting to know God in THAT way may compel them to change.

I don’t want to get to that final WEDDING FEAST myself (not sitting in the pew, but standing beside the King) and find that I don’t even recognize His voice, as He holds my hand.  I, for one, will put the Spirit’s voice first.  I choose to hear Jesus sing, and I want to know His Father…personally.

One lunchtime, during my college days, I was seated in my favorite corner of my favorite neighborhood café, around the corner from the school, when a friend of mine walked in.  She came over to my table, leading another girl I didn’t recognize.  My friend introduced Sali and I asked them to sit down.  Thus began a “school-year-long” friendship with Sali and our small group of friends.

This was a circle of promising singers, actors, dancers, etc. and Sali was a pianist.  My kind-hearted female friend had introduced our little group to Sali because she saw Sali sitting alone those first couple weeks of September and thought she could use a friend.

Sali was quiet, but funny, humble but a piano virtuoso.  No one would describe her as a “classic” beauty, but behind her large glasses were large, dark eyes.  In her somewhat dull and baggy clothes she had a very gracious way about her.  When she wasn’t with us, we guessed she “came from money”.  As awkward, socially, as she might have been, she obviously had some good breeding…better breeding than most of us.

 The school year went through the seasons.  After each recital, or performance, we had the obligatory party and Sali was always a part of it.  We liked her, and she liked us.  She didn’t speak much, perhaps thinking her English wasn’t great…although it was.  We couldn’t tell from her accent where this dark-skinned, dark-haired, girl, was from and any question about her family or background was always met with a tactful change-of-subject.

Then there were the little “gifts”.  Each of us experienced, from her, a quiet moment when she would present us with a little token; a scarf for one of the girls, a poetry book, a flower for a teacher…always something thoughtful and unexpected.  We were, in that little circle of friends, happy to be around her although, many times, it was difficult to tell she was even there; always quiet, always in the background.

At the end of the year she was, surprisingly, leaving.  She had been there only that year, and her family was coming to take her back home, she told us.  Then she handed each of us a small invitation, hand-written on simple card-stock, an invitation to a dinner party her parents were having for her before they took her back home with them…they wanted her to invite her “school friends” and she considered us to be her ONLY friends.  She informed us that it was formal.  We must’ve looked a little shocked.  The two of us guys especially.  The girls, of course, were thrilled.  The other male and I “borrowed” school tuxes.

The address for the party was downtown at a large hotel.  We arrived and were, shockingly, ushered to a large banquet hall on one of the upper floors.  The doors opened and we walked in, looking very much like we were there for the prom….while everyone else we saw looked like they dressed this way every day.

The place was filled with well-groomed, obviously important, adults.  There was a champagne fountain, lots of food, and a string quartet.  As we stood there, an elegant woman with a thick accent, and dressed in purple velvet, smiled as she approached us.  She asked if we were the school friends she’d heard of.  We were, we said.  Then she said words I will never forget and still hear ringing in my ears as I write down this story:

“The Shahzadi is over there, she’ll be so happy to see you.”

Yup, that’s what she said: “The Shahzadi…”

 With mouths open, we all turned to see where she indicated, and there was Sali, dressed in shimmering blue, her glasses gone, her hair up…and fixed with a small-but-extremely sparkly Eastern-style tiara.

 In a flash we all understood, and we were all befuddled.  Our friend, Sali, the girl who was reluctant to share about her family or background – just happened to be the “inheriting” daughter of some Sultan (we soon discovered).  We met her Dad (the Sultan) and her Mom (Mrs. Sultan), and some of her parents’ friends/dignitaries.

It seems Sali had been given a year of freedom; a year to do what she would like to do, before returning home to marry.  She decided to take one school year, studying the piano (an instrument she had played since early childhood) within the context of a “college”…something she wouldn’t have experienced otherwise.  She wanted to make some “normal” friends, (‘Couldn’t get more NORMAL than us), and she wanted to experience America.  Her aunt lived in Washington State and hosted her there.  I know, it sounds like the plot of a Disney film, but there it was.

 One of our circle said it best, as we all sat in the corner table with Sali at the end of the evening – like so many nights at our café: “All this time, you were wearing a hidden crown…and we never knew.”

 She was a “Princess among us”.  Yes, ours was a school of the very wealthy and the very not wealthy, of Americans and International students.  But a “Sultana”?  Really?  We were shocked AND started thinking back on our friendship over the year – wondering if any of us had committed some slight that would end up with us losing our heads.  But Sali, with tears and hugs all around thanked us for being her friends, for allowing her to experience “American” college life, and for drawing her into our little circle. Would we have treated her differently had we known? 

I started looking at everyone I knew differently after that:  “Alright, wh else – are any of the rest of you sultans, or queens, or…?”  If Sali, this quiet, shy, funny, warm, giving, awkward, girl was a “Shahzadi” or “Sultana”…then anyone could be anything!

 And isn’t that the TRUTH?  In the Kingdom we are asked to look upon everyone as if they were wearing “hidden crowns”, to treat all strangers with hospitality in case they are “angels”. (HEBREWS 13:2) We are to look at others as if they were “better” than us.  (PHILIPPIANS 2:3-4) I don’t know about you, but it seems to me that many people tend to look at others, and treat them, in just the opposite way.  Often we are taught by the WORLD to make sure WE have good self-esteem, that WE know our own self-worth, that WE are to be cared for first.

But God didn’t create the world to work that way.  He honors us when WE see the hidden crowns everyone else (the good, the bad, AND the ugly) is wearing; when we treat OTHERS (no matter who) as if THEY, and not we, were royalty deserving of respect and love.

Imagine how different this last year would’ve been if we saw everyone else’s hidden crowns.  But let’s not look back, let’s look forward and start seeing those crowns now…that alone, quite possibly, could change the world.