Mount Shasta (Day 4)

25 October 2010

I slept in. It was a nice change of pace. I had averaged about 843 km a day since leaving Caronport, had missed meals, had struggled to sleep, and I no longer felt the urgency to be somewhere else. I woke up at 9:30 a.m. and got ready at my leisure. It was kind of strange to wake up in Mount Shasta, which had become something of an enigma to me. But isn't it always that way with foreign or unknown things that God freely chooses to stitch to our hearts? (Why Mount Shasta, Lord?) Digress.

I decided to wear some of the thermal gear I had brought in a second backpack. It snowed the day before and patches of white dust still dotted the ground in various places near the city.

I left the motel and decided I would pray over the mountain first. Based on all my investigations, the mountain seemed to be the object of misplaced faith, if not the culprit. I drove out of town toward the mountain and accidentally wound up on the freeway. In the process of backtracking I turned onto a road that chanced to lead to the mountain itself, so God was evidently still guiding me (when I'd pay attention). Unfortunately, I found the gravel road to the mountain pass fenced off. People had been talking about road closures on account of the snow, so that probably accounted for the fact that I couldn't really draw near to it. In any case, it was hunting season and I had no orange vest, so maybe the Lord did me a solid in not allowing me to get too close. For all I knew I would have entered a demonic stronghold there, too. So I prayed from afar that people would stop reverencing the mountain, towering and beautiful as it was. I asked Jesus to equip the local residents to glorify its Creator, Jesus Christ. I also prayed that any demons that had been deluding people would be bound in the name of Christ and cast into the same abyss we read about in the New Testament. With that accomplished, I took a few photos and returned to town.

I parked on Mount Shasta Blvd and walked around the town, praying that God would release it from bondage. It turned out that I was perhaps a little overdressed because the temperature rose higher than expected, broaching 10C, so I was wearing at least one layer too much. And the sun was still rising. I prayed over businesses and residences, hoping that the extraordinary circumstance of my presence would touch God's heart in a unique way. I suppose I should censor myself on this point, but I don't think I'm boasting here. Sometimes there is no rhyme or reason behind actions except for the fact that God chooses particular agents for particular tasks (cf. Acts 9:10-19). And how pleased would I be with my place in the metanarrative of God if I never do anything worth writing down again, if only the scales would fall from the eyes of the deceived in Mount Shasta! I usually just walked, but I felt particularly compelled to kneel down and pray for God's corrective rod to fall on one enterprise in particular, which seemed as syncretistic as my research has unearthed: the I Am Reading Room. I realize that it might be taboo to name drop, but the spiritual war needs to be directly engaged against demons that have made so many inroads in the hearts and minds of people deluded enough to dig such pits. In the case of this building, the proponents had been audacious enough to borrow a common name the Lord uses to describe Himself, so I am going to exercise my freedom in Christ and ask any willing reader to pray for the release of these people. And if not that, an abrupt end of this false teaching. I was tempted to attend one of their meetings, but they weren't open when I was there. But I repeat, anyone who has a burden for this town needs to pray against all the neo-paganism, mysticism, and new age syncretism.

After my prayer walk, I felt very exhausted. It was getting hard to formulate a coherent thought. I had intended to fast completely, but my vision was getting blurry, so I indulged in some water. I parked on Alma Street and found a bench on Mount Shasta Blvd. I was perplexed as to where to go next. Praying over the town seemed an obvious move, but the Lord had been silent about how long I was to stay there or what else to do. I assumed, based on my lack of fear or temptation or discouragement, that He had been shielding me from spiritual attacks, but I hardly had any clarity about how to serve Him. I people-watched for a stint and finally asked Him bluntly, "Lord, I need a sign. What should I do? Am I dismissed from this place? I'm finding it hard to stay awake." In response, He had this vehicle park right in front of where I was seated, and three gentlemen emerged. They disappeared into some storefront down the street, but not before He had put on their lips a brief conversation that, as best as I could discern, released me from Mount Shasta.

I wasn't there on vacation, nor did I desire to be in my lonesome, so I thanked Him for His faithfulness and decided to leave that day. Before braving the freeway again, I thought I'd best get a good meal in my system to sustain me for the drive. I walked back toward Alma Street and considered my lunch options. I was hesitant, but I felt led to go to this certain place near the bench I had occupied. I walked in and had some unrest about breaking my fast, but after taking a seat and speaking with a greeter I felt that it would be a chump move to walk out. The waitress brought me a menu and gave me a few moments to myself. It was hard to decide what to order because all the items seemed the same, no doubt a symptom of my fatigue. I ordered a pasta dish. Felt like I was in a movie because I was so tired I could have been standing beside myself without noticing the relative displacement of my point of view. She asked if I wanted something other than water to drink. I asked what my options were, to which she replied, "We have beer, wine, Italian soda..."

"Italian soda sounds great," I said.

"Which flavour would you like?"

Even though I always get lime, again I inquired about my options. It was hard to be assertive after three days of driving and a day of fasting.

"Well, we have lime and--"

"That's it!" I said. "You read my mind."

To this she replied, "That's been happening a lot lately. The Lord has really been working on me."

Of course, this caught my attention. I was so tempted to ask her if she could help me discern what the Lord wanted me to do, but I balked. She brought me a salad, and I said nothing. Then came my soda, and I was silent. Meal, nothing. She checked to see how I was doing a few times, and what did I do? Bupkis. Then the bill came, and I reached for my wallet. By this time, the Holy Spirit's conviction was too strong to ignore, so I asked her if she could suffer a question on my behalf. She conceded and I told her that I was from Nova Scotia and had only come to Mount Shasta because the Lord asked me to some fourteen months ago. I told her that I had been fasting and praying over the town since the night before, but I couldn't discern if He wanted me to do anything else and I was kind of anxious to get back to my friends in Saskatchewan. Seeing as she knew the Lord, I was curious if she could see if she wouldn't mind inquiring of Him to ascertain whether I was indeed free to go. I also pointed out that, obviously, I had broken my fast (else I wouldn't have been in the restaurant) but was open to the possibility that even this had been an act of disobedience. Having come this far, I didn't want to botch the mission, but how was I, in my diminished state, to trust my own sensibilities? Quite a heavy thing to drop onto a stranger's shoulders, but I guess there are no faux-pas when it comes to serving God.

For the sake of keeping things in confidence, I will say little in terms of content at this point of the testimony. I do feel free, however, to relate that she had someone with whom she wanted me to speak, and that I wound up spending the next six hours with her and her boyfriend, fellowshipping and sharing stories about things God had done for us. She confirmed, however, that she had felt my prayers consoling her the night before and throughout that morning, which was a pretty powerful thing to discover. A lot of things were addressed on both sides, and I am certain these two will be life-long friends and siblings in the Lord. We prayed for each other at the close of the evening, and we all had a peace about me being free to leave the next morning. There was a chill in the air that filled us with a sense of urgency about getting me home safely, and there were thick clouds that hung over the town like an ominous sign that I would have some nasty weather to contend with. They helped me map out a route to bypass the town of Redding, and it was decided that I would cut through the Nevada desert and then head up through the 15 (the same route I had taken into the U.S.). We parted company, though I suspect I will see them both again some day. (If not in this world, certainly in the kingdom.)

I found a place to stay for the night and then went grocery shopping, purchasing some protein bars, appricot slices, trail mix, a few energy drinks (cursed things!), and some other sundries. I went to bed that night with a sense of purpose. God had done something powerful for me, something that is so intimate and personal that it just can't be written here in great detail. And yeah, I'm the guy who gushed a graphic depiction of humiliating circumstances surrounding my illness, but I did that so God would receive full credit for having healed my digestive issues. But since this concerns others, I just have to steady my proverbial pen. Anyway, discipleship is a two-way process, and it is one that is close to my heart. If you understand it, you will appreciate the need for a gag order here. If you don't, I should point out that God had a few miracles in His pocket for the following days, and I trust they will suffice in validating the events that happened on this day. His deliverance would be made known to me in new and powerful ways. But not until I had been put through the ringer...

Mileage: 2560 km