A Boy Tries to Move a Mountain

The boy gazed intently at the hill up the street. He couldn’t have been more than five or six years old. He was playing with his toy cars in his driveway, which was at the bottom of a small hill that led up the street to the small downtown strip of his small town.

It was a Sunday afternoon, and like most Sunday afternoons his mother had told him to go play outside while she cleaned up from lunch. Soon he would have to take a nap, like most Sunday afternoons, but right now he was free to play. Like most Sundays, the family had gone to church that morning. They attended a church with a high steeple in the middle of the town, up the hill and to the left.

Like most Sundays, his parents had dropped the boy and his little sister off in the Children’s Ministry area before joining Big Church where the music had already started and energetic people were handing out bulletins and welcoming the congregants. Like most Sundays, they were late. So the boy and his sister only had a little time to play with the old, well-worn, donated toys before the teacher lady gathered them up to pray before the lesson. They sat in a circle while the teacher lady asked if any of the boys and girls had prayer requests. Hands shot up in the air as the lady wrote down the prayer requests: someone’s cat had died, another’s dog was sick; someone’s uncle was traveling and needed safety, another’s grandma was having surgery on something later in the week; someone had a baseball game that week, another had a dentist appointment.

Like most Sundays, the teacher lady began her lesson once the requests had been compiled and prayed for. She taught the children about faith: Jesus said that if we have faith as small as a mustard seed, we could move mountains. God is so powerful that if we ask him to move a mountain, he could do it! In order to help the children understand, the teacher lady carefully handed each child a mustard seed. The children oohed and ahed and traded and threw the mustard seeds at each other and giggled as some of the boys swallowed the mustard seeds.

Like most Sundays, the children lost focus quickly. The teacher lady moved on to the craft for the day. She showed the boys and girls how to make a mountain that moved when you pulled the piece of yarn. On the top of the mountain, the verse was written: “if you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mountain, ‘Move from here to there,’ and it will move. Nothing will be impossible for you.”

Like most Sundays, the children grew louder and rowdier as the teacher lady checked her watch frequently. Eventually, the boy’s parents came and picked up him and his sister. Like most Sundays, the boy and his sister had almost left the children’s area when the teacher lady called them back to pick up their craft and take home paper. Like most Sundays, they had gotten in the hot car, thrown the craft and take-home paper on the floor of the car, and asked about lunch.

Like most Sundays, the boy’s parents asked him and his sister about what they learned about in church. The boy and his sister claimed they didn’t know what they had learned until eventually coming up with “mustard seed” and "move mountains.”

But unlike most Sundays, the boy started thinking about the lesson while he played outside. He thought about how cool it would be to move a mountain. Unfortunately, he lived in the flat midwest and had only seen a mountain once in his life, while on a family vacation to Colorado. But they lived at the bottom of the small hill that led up to the small downtown section of the small town, and if God could move a mountain, couldn’t he move that small hill?

The boy dropped his cars as he rose to his feet. He walked toward the end of the driveway and looked up the hill. He looked past the Millers’ house and the Caseys’ house and the furniture store to where the hill peaked. He squinted his eyes and tried to have faith. He thought about the mustard seed and thought about the mountain he wanted to move. In his head, he asked God to move the hill. He closed his eyes for what felt like an hour. When he opened his eyes, his shoulders sagged. The small hill appeared to be in the same spot.

Trying a new tactic, the boy decided that maybe he needed to ask God to move the hill out loud. Again, he tried to think about faith, mustard seeds, and the hill. He set his jaw and through gritted teeth said “God, will you please move that hill?” He closed his eyes so tightly that he saw spots of lights. He clenched his fists until his arms shook. He thought of nothing but faith, mustard seeds, and the hill. He thought he felt something in his chest--a tickle or a warmth or a jump. Just to make sure it worked, he repeated aloud his request: “God, will you please move that hill?”

The boy opened his eyes and blinked away the brightness of the afternoon. The hill had not moved one iota. He was positive that the hill was in the exact same spot as it was before. The boy looked around carefully. Maybe God hadn’t heard him correctly and had moved some other hill or object. When the boy was satisfied that everything looked the same as before, he shrugged. Next week, he would ask the teacher lady at church why the hill hadn’t moved. The boy quickly forgot about the incident and went back to his toy cars in the driveway.

Like most Sundays, the boy’s mom soon stuck her head out the door and called him in to take his nap. Like most Sundays, the boy gathered his toy cars and went into the house. Like most Sundays, the boy napped peacefully knowing that he had parents who cared about him and a God who loved him.