Many years of my life I woke up in the Ozarks mountains. My first job after college took me to the Flint Hills of Kansas. Now I daily enjoy a view of the front range of the Rocky Mountains.

So I relate to the psalmist who writes, I lift up my eyes to the hills. From where does my help come? Depth and power reside in the hills—a sense of permanence, of the eternal. For whatever reason, I feel it when gazing at the majestic.

The answer to the psalmist follows hard on the question: My help comes from the Lord, who made heaven and earth.

The Creator of Hills offers to sustain you and I. He steadies our feet on the mountain paths of life. He stays awake—shading us from sun and moon, steering us from evil, and protecting us as we go out and go in.

When I worry where the help I need hides, I try to remember these words. Help comes from the Lord, who made the soaring mountains and the rolling hills. Amazingly, the Creator cares for me, providing both my daily needs and often my less-than-significant wants.

Worth remembering from this time forth and forevermore.

Psalm 121 in week twenty-six of reading the Bible cover to cover