There is something about the mountains that invites reflection about God. For as long as humans have existed on this planet, they have been drawn to high places and have had experiences of the divine there. The stories of our people include those of Moses going to the mountain to speak with God, Elijah hearing the still small voice of God in a mountain cave, and Jesus taking disciples to the mountain where he was transfigured, among many other stories of leaders encountering God in the mountains. Many indigenous cultures have special mountain locations for seeking one’s vision and purpose in life.

The high country of the Absaroka/Beartooth wilderness on the border between Montana and Wyoming was sacred to the Apsáalooke or Crow people long before contact with Europeans. Young men went to the high country on vision quests. Leaders spent time there to seek wisdom and guidance.

I was born in the valley below, but I have been going into the high country all my life. When I was a child, I would accompany my father as he flew fire patrol over the Gallatin and Custer National Forests and Yellowstone National Park. I loved the beauty of the mountains as seen from a small airplane. We also went to the mountains to camp, and our church camp in the high country was an essential part of my growing up. I was a teenager, and I was eager to get away from the small town of my birth. I went away to college and then attended graduate school farther away, and thought that I would come back to live. Life, however, led me in other directions. I discovered the beauty in different places, and I encountered the sacred in other locations. But there always is a sense of homecoming when I return to the high country.

Yesterday, a short drive and a short walk into the mountains took us to a snow-fed pond. Peaks towered above us as we entered the home of bears and deer. We were silent as we walked because we sensed that words would not add anything to the experience. We were not alone. We were too close to roads and campgrounds that attract many visitors. We could have been alone in the high country by walking an additional mile or so, but the presence of others did not detract from the sacredness of the place.

As usual, nature provided all that was necessary. We even found wild raspberries to pick for our snack. The raspberries reminded us that there are other creatures whose home we had entered. The presence of many people meant we did not expect to see a bear, but the presence of good food meant that bears would visit when the people left for the night. There were plenty of berries left after our visit.

Our walk took us alongside Rock Creek, a stream that begins much higher at the edge of the snow line. The creek provided music for our ears as we walked. The trees and soil provided a welcome scent. Every sense was engaged. The high country is a place of encounter with God.

As I write this morning, I am aware that my words do not adequately describe the experience of returning to the high country. I know that my spirit is refreshed, and it is well with my soul. I am grateful for another opportunity to visit this holy place.

We will soon leave the high country, bound for other places of beauty and meaning and vision. There are dear friends that we need to visit and memories that we want to share. I am reminded of the experience of Jesus’ disciples at the transfiguration. They wanted to build booths and to remain in the place of such deep encounter, but Jesus reminded them that the time had come for them to leave the high place and return to the work at hand.

Life goes on, and we return to other places. The high country, however, has transformed us, and we return with a more profound sense of the divine.