Three men went to the mountain one day–to cut it down.

They knew it was impossible but that was no deterrent, just made it more imperative to try. They were men–individual miracles of the world they occupied, undeniable in position, worthy of respect–and they would not be denied their voice; once and for all they would be heard, heeded, answered; reckoning day was here.

Three men went up to the mountain, looked down in awe, in wonder at their world. Standing on the edge of cliffs they looked below, miles and miles away, where the New River flowed majestically. Above, they floated on air with hawks, at the tops of hundred-foot-plus trees, and they were free for the first time. They claimed it all their own, their right–planted flags and marked trees–it all belonged to them now.

Three proud men went to the mountain, as the mountain came to them–head on, face to face–to understand it, reconcile with it. They cut a gorge through it where water ran that ricocheted off huge rocks, that cleaned the unsmelt stench, that cleaned them spotless. It was clean and cold and perfect and it was deeper than deep. They saw its power and they became new like the river–for the river is always with us, before us and after us, but always it is new.

Three men searched the mountain, found the river, found the New. Edified, they came home, refreshed, satisfied. Tomorrow they will search it again, to find their place, to ask questions and demand the truth. They deserve the truth, because they are worthy, miraculous, and undeniable.

“What is man, that thou art mindful of him? Or the son of man, that thou visitest him? Thou madest him a little lower than the angels, thou crowndest him with glory and honor, and didst set him over the works of thy hands.”

Hebrews 2:6,7 (kjv)

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Painting: Mountain Stream 8×10 oil on board

Photo: MTMcClanahan, Rich Murphy & Frank Dew in West Virginia