Standing on the Rock

by Hannah Elmore on

Articles 3 min read
Psalm 18:2 Matthew 7:24–27

I severely overestimated my ability and severely underestimated the mountain. Mount Princeton proved far more difficult than I imagined. They say every 14-er (that is, every mountain exceeding 14,000 feet) has rock scrambling, but this much rock scrambling? If I thought that going up was the toughest part, then it turns out going down offered a big surprise. As we descended the mountain, I took painfully cautious steps. With each passing year, I tend to become more and more aware of my own fragility. This mountain made that fragility crystal clear. I poked forward with the hiking poles, testing out each and every rock before I set my full weight upon it. Would it hold me steady?

I thought back to 2020—the pandemic hit and within two days I had a major international trip cancelled and a roommate announce a move to another state. We had lived together almost ten years and learning that she considered this move for many months prior surprised me. Between learning to teach public school online, an unplanned move, a cancelled trip, and the changes we incurred through the pandemic, I felt unsteady, everything undone. I felt adrift.

Around that time, I started flipping through the Psalms. David wrote some pretty honest Psalms, right? He laid it all out there, and his words often resonated with me. I came across Psalm 18.

“The Lord is my rock and my fortress and my deliverer, my God, my rock, in whom I take refuge…” —Psalm 18:2

I needed that reminder in 2020. Despite how unsteady I felt in those moments, despite the sands shifting under me, I could cling to one thing—the Lord, my rock. I thought about Jesus’ words about building a foundation upon the rock (Matthew 7:24-27). The rain came, the wind blew, but the house built upon the rock stayed firm. I could feel the rain and the wind, beating and battering me.

Standing on the mountaintop now, poles in hand, testing the rocks for surefootedness reminded me of Psalm 18. I took step after step, remembering I can take secure steps in Christ. I may not know the location of my next home, but I can cling to Christ. I can poke and prod all I need to; I know that He can bear my weight. My sure foundation, my rock.

If you feel the sand shifting beneath you or your next steps seem unsteady, remember that He remains our sure foundation, and as His Word says, He will draw you up and set your feet upon the rock.

Hannah Elmore-Mountain.JPG

About the Author

Hannah Elmore graduated from Dallas Theological Seminary in December 2023 with a Master of Arts in Christian Education.