Psalm 121

I love this psalm. It is such a well-known psalm, so simple yet so powerful in its message. I love how it begins: “I lift up my eyes to the mountains—where does my help come from? My help comes from the LORD, the Maker of heaven and earth.” (vs 1-2) In other words, you may think those mountains are great, but I know the One who made those mountains.

As I thought about what to write today, I realized that I wanted to share nothing more than the reflections of a man who once climbed a mountain. He and his friend climbed this gargantuan mountain—without climbing gear, proper shoes, or adequate food and water—because the alternative was to do nothing and die.

If you don’t yet know what I’m talking about, find a copy of the 1993 film Alive and watch it. It’s the story of a Uruguayan rugby team who chartered a plane that crashed in the middle of the Andes mountains in 1972. Sixteen ultimately survived the ordeal because two of the boys—Nando and Roberto—climbed out of the Andes on foot, weeks after the search-and-rescue mission had been called off.

So I decided to share with you an excerpt from Nando’s 2007 book, Miracle in the Andes (which you really must read!). In this memory, he recounts the thoughts he had when he “lifted up his eyes to the mountains”—when he had climbed that first dizzying height, only to discover there were many, many more mountains waiting.

I don’t know how long I stood there, staring. A minute. Maybe two. I stood motionless until I felt a burning pressure in my lungs, and realized I had forgotten to breathe. I sucked air. My legs went rubbery and I fell to the ground. I cursed God and raged at the mountains. The truth was before me: for all my striving, all my hopes, all my promises to myself and my father, it would end like this. We would all die in these mountains. We would sink beneath the snow, the ancient silence would fall over us, and our loved ones would never know how hard we had struggled to return to them. In that moment all my dreams, assumptions, and expectations of life evaporated into the thin Andean air.

I had always thought that life was the actual thing, the natural thing, and that death was simply the end of living. Now, in this lifeless place, I saw with a terrible clarity that death was the constant, death was the base, and life was only a short, fragile dream. I was dead already. I had been born dead, and what I thought was my life was just a game death let me play as it waited to take me.

In my despair, I felt a sharp and sudden longing for the softness of my mother and my sister, and the warm, strong embrace of my father. My love for my father swelled in my heart, and I realized that, despite the hopelessness of my situation, the memory of him filled me with joy. It staggered me: The mountains, for all their power, were not stronger than my attachment to my father. They could not crush my ability to love.

I felt a moment of calmness and clarity, and in that clarity of mind I discovered a simple, astounding secret: Death has an opposite, but the opposite is not mere living. It is not courage or faith or human will. The opposite of death is love. How had I missed that? How does anyone miss that? Love is our only weapon. Only love can turn mere life into a miracle, and draw precious meaning from suffering and fear.

For a brief, magical moment, all my fears lifted, and I knew that I would not let death control me. I would walk through the god-forsaken country that separated me from my home with love and hope in my heart. I would walk until I had walked all the life out of me, and when I fell I would die that much closer to my father.

Today, as I lift my eyes with the psalmist and see only mountains, I will choose to lift my voice with Nando and declare that I will walk until I have walked all the life out of me, and when I fall, I will die that much closer to my Father. No matter how many mountains surround me, He trumps them all.

The mountains, for all their power, are not stronger than my attachment to my Father. Death may hold me for a moment, but it does not have ultimate say, because the opposite of death is Love, and He never sleeps.