Don’t Miss the View

Words of Inspiration

By Meghan Ryan Asbury

Right after graduating from college, I decided to work for a nonprofit that provided clean water in developing countries. Armed with a lot of optimism and little to no life experience, I found myself hopping on planes to remote villages where I would spend my days trying to build relationships with people who were nothing like me. It was one of the best and maybe craziest decisions I ever made.

On one trip in particular, I found myself with a small team in Haiti. We were wrapping up dinner after a long day of traveling when my boss mentioned taking motorcycles up the mountain the next day. I was curious who would be driving those motorcycles, but I figured it couldn’t be that hard to drive myself. I didn’t ask any questions and soon headed up to bed. The next morning, after shoveling down granola bars and coffee, we grabbed our bags, filled them with water filters, and were ready for the day.

Then I saw it—a group of strangers all sitting on some really old-looking motorcycles outside. My fight-or-flight instincts were raging, and I was internally ready to run away as fast as possible. I did my best to look calm on the outside. After all, I was there for work, so I could not let myself appear afraid.

Before I could think too hard about it, I was sitting on the back of an old bike with my driver, ready to leave. We didn’t speak the same language, but I was handed a surgical mask to keep the dust and exhaust fumes out of my nose, and our group of bikers weaved through the crowded market streets until we reached the foot of the mountain.

I don’t think I can adequately explain to you the conditions on this mountain road we took. Actually, I take that back—there was no road involved. It was a rocky path between mountain boulders that, by some miracle, these motorcycles were able to overcome. It was the longest two hours of my life, going up a mountain on a motorcycle. I fell off twice on the way up and once on the way down.

Not to mention, I was not a pleasant passenger. My driver kept urging me to scoot forward on the bike seat. But the closer I scooted on the bike seat, the less control I had over my position on the bike—my feet couldn’t be firmly planted, and I couldn’t hang on to the bike properly.

This is such a picture of how I can operate in life. I want to feel in control. While nothing in life is really ever in my control, I like to act like it is. Instead of just holding on for the ride, I fight to make things go my way.

Even in my relationship with God, I do this. Not recognizing that God controls my life makes it much harder for me to enjoy the ride. I feel like He is up there saying, “I know you aren’t in control, but if you just hold on to Me and trust Me, it’s going to be a lot easier to get through this painful ride. Trying to control this yourself is making it harder for both of us.”

Still, I spent the majority of that ride up the mountain internally screaming every curse word I could think of. A few times, we had to quickly jump off the bikes and push them up some rougher terrain, and multiple times I fought to just keep walking rather than get back on the bike. “I’m fine,” I told myself. “I can make it up the mountain without the bike.” The few seconds of relief were worth it, even if it meant it would take longer to get to the top.

How often in life do I make things take longer because I’m trying to do them my way? Sometimes trusting God is painful and uncontrollable, but it teaches me to rely on His strength and not my own.

We finally made it to the top. I could have kissed the ground. (Unfortunately, that relief was met with instant horror when I realized we had to ride back down.) We had a couple of hours to spend up on the mountain. We met with families and visited some schools. My stomach was in knots the whole time, praying silently that there was another way down.

Looking back, I realized I let the fear keep me from experiencing the joy of being on top of the mountain. I knew what the ride to the top felt like, and I knew I eventually had to go back down, so instead of enjoying the top, I feared I wouldn’t get to stay there forever.

How many times in my life have I put up walls because I was afraid of getting hurt again? How many people have I pushed away out of fear of being rejected again? How many times have I let my previous hurt keep me from just enjoying life?

This is what being on the mountaintop looked like: schools full of children seeing brown water turn clear. There were families getting clean water for the first time. I was so close to missing the beauty of it all because I was afraid of the pain that would inevitably come again soon.

And then, the time came to descend the mountain, and I almost started crying. We were hitting boulders so hard that the wind would get knocked out of me. I wanted to close my eyes the whole way down. It was even worse than the way up. But then I opened my eyes and looked at the view, and at that moment, this thought came to me:

“This is painful right now, but if you keep closing your eyes and wishing for it to be over, you’re going to miss the beauty of this view you may never see again.”

The thought wasn’t just about the ride down; it could be applied to every area of my life. How many times have I prayed for a season to be over? How many times have I just wished the pain would go away? How many times have I just stuck my head down and tried to get through the next task without stopping to enjoy it?

The view on the way down was something my words and pictures couldn’t do justice to. I didn’t notice it on the way up because I was so focused on reaching the top unscathed. I can’t help but wonder how much beauty I’ve missed because I was concerned about getting to my destination as quickly and painlessly as possible.

I don’t want to do that anymore. I want to just grab on, trust God, and enjoy the view from the ride. No, I don’t have control when I do that. And yes, it can be painful.

But what a story I get to tell.

Maybe the same is true for you, too. Are you trying to get through your days as quickly and painlessly as possible? Could you be missing something as you do? What if you could let go of all you are trying to control and enjoy the view from the ride you are on?

A couple of days later, we were on a boat, and I looked up at the mountain—the same treacherous mountain I never wanted to go near again. It was beautiful. I remembered the pain of getting to the top and coming back down, but I also remembered the view and thought, “You know what? I’d do it again.”

— V —

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Meghan Ryan Asbury is an author and speaker who is passionate about helping people discover and live out their God-given callings. She has worked in international ministries as well as with Proverbs 31 Ministries. When she’s not surrounded by friends, you can usually find her reading a book or enjoying the great outdoors. A 30-A beach girl, born and raised, she and her husband now reside in Nashville. Her first book, You Are Not Behind: Building a Life You Love Without Having Everything You Want, is available wherever books are sold. You can connect with her on Instagram @meghanryanasbury and at AlwaysMeghan.com.