lion of judah

       "Hello everyone, I'm Tom, your guide from Cape Town. Welcome to the Full Moon Hike up Lions Head Mountain. Does anyone know why you picked the right month to make this hike?"
        "It's a Super Perigee Moon", said the person next to me.
        "That's right. It means the moon is larger and closer to the earth than it has been in almost twenty years, so this should be awesome! The climb gets progressively more challenging as we go up, with one part being an actual rock climb, should you choose to take that particular path to the top. Keep your buddies nearby. Everyone got water?"
       He looked at me, "Where's your group?"
       "Just me." I grinned. "Always just me."
       "Ok cool. Well, follow me." As we headed up the hill, he was soon surrounded by people asking questions.


       Cape Town, South Africa reminds me of San Francisco. It's a cosmopolitan city on the edge of an ocean with a kaleidoscope of people and many exciting things to experience. One can go Sand Boarding down a huge dune, shark cage diving with the Great Whites, hang out with Penguins, go to Carnivale, visit Robbins Island where Nelson Mandela was imprisoned, and one of my personal favorites; climb Lions Head Mountain.

    

Lions Head 

Views from the climb

  

       As we worked our way up the mountain I fell behind the crowd, becoming engrossed in the same thought patterns and questions that dogged me the last months.

       ‘I’m at the tip of the continent; there’s nowhere else to go and I am confronted with myself. What do I do now? What is my purpose? What does my life even mean? I should have these answers by now.’ 

       In a moment of complete exasperation I looked up and for the first time on this entire trip, cried out to the heavens in my head, ‘What do You want me to do?!’

       “I’ve given you a lifetime of experiences. Use them to help people.”

       I stopped dead in my tracks and looked around to see who was speaking to me.

       No one. 

       I was alone.

       The hair on the back of my neck stood on end.

       In that instant I recognized the voice. I’d heard it only two other times in my life, and I clearly knew the source. A sob erupted from my chest that doubled me over and threw me down on one knee. I grabbed onto the rock to hold myself upright. Chills ran all over my body, chills of awe. At the same time a frequency that can only be described as the purest form of love flowed throughout my body.  The voice that speaks to me is without judgment, not commanding. It is more like a statement. A helpful piece of information given in a slightly matter of fact way. The voice was also wrapped up in a tone of endearing love. It was there, and in the next instant, it was gone.

       The low sun pierced my eyes as I looked upwards and shouted out loud, “Where…? How…? What people…?”  But I knew there would be no reply. There never was. He had given me what I needed at the moment, and no more. The rest was up to me. I pushed myself off the rock beside me, brushed my hands and steadied myself to stand.

       When my life fell apart, the pain was so deep that I went numb. An explosion of epic proportions had obliterated my heart. Walls shot up around it for protection and, God Himself, was not immune from the emotional standoff I was having with the world. But this separation from Him was new to me.  I have known I was a child of God since I was old enough to have a conscious thought. I sought out His word, studied it, memorized it, and taught it as I grew older.  More than words, though, was His steadfast unconditional love for me and mine for Him. He has always been my anchor, my strong force, my companion, and I’ve always understood that His place in my life couldn’t be separated from who I was.  Even many years ago, when my daughter died, I didn’t turn away.  I determinedly told everyone who questioned the tragedy, that God had a reason and one day I would understand.  But this time, I didn’t question, I didn’t get angry, I didn’t do anything; I went blanket numb. And so I ignored Him, covering my eyes to His stars of light, denying even His comfort.

       I would have thought by now He would have turned His face from me, but He waited patiently for my pain to run it’s course, gently reminding me of His love by periodically placing people in my path to tell me.  An American woman on the plane to Rwanda, an email from home, a new South African friend in Cape Town, and the wise words given to me by Mama Tofu.

        I know Him, but I couldn’t feel Him, and I operate on feelings. I know in my head He loves me and so had not turned from me, but I didn’t feel it.  And if I don’t feel, I’m like a little boat in the water without a rudder. I’ve been paddling around in circles. He knows this, of course.  He knows everything about me.  He knows all of the parts that make up my whole, and He loves me so completely anyway. At this moment, on the mountain, I can’t imagine why.

       The sob poured forth gratefulness that I am not alone, that He still cares for me and has a plan for my life that is greater than I could ever hope for or imagine. I let His love wash over me, and at the same time I am ashamed that He had to speak audibly to reach me.

       I don’t know how much time passed as I stood there.  The others were long gone up the path, but I had done some rock climbing when I lived in Colorado so I knew I’d be ok to make it to the top on my own. He had given me an answer to the long, sought out question that took me all the way to the other side of the world. I wiped my eyes with the tail of my shirt, and the snot, with the back of my hand. I’d like to say I returned His love with a moment of thanks, but as I started up the path, my human nature surfaced.  I am a child, after all, a stubborn infant, and knowing that He was still near I mumbled under my breath, “You know, a billboard on Interstate 40 would have been a lot easier.”
I watched the sun set beautifully in the west, turned, and watched the moon rise in the east from what felt like the top of the world. I realized it was time for me to move on.  Africa had given me all that it could, which encapsulates the irony of this great continent; I was supposed to help Africa and yet, Africa had helped me. 

      

Moon Rise