WILD MOUNTAIN THYME

Wild Mountain Thyme, a song that dates back to the late 1700s and early 1800s. Scottish poet Robert Tannahill and composer Robert Archibald Smith wrote "The Braes of Balquhidder", a traditional courtship song that featured similar imagery of Highland heather and blueberries. [1, 2]

In the 1950s, Belfast musician Francis McPeake reworked the traditional lyrics and set them to a new, original melody. McPeake’s family, known as the McPeake Trio, first recorded this revised version for the BBC in the 1950s, ultimately popularizing it worldwide. [1, 2, 3]

There is something remarkable about how often God chooses ordinary things to reveal extraordinary truths. The Scriptures tell stories of burning bushes, mustard seeds, vineyards, wells, shepherds, fig trees, and shared meals. Again and again, the Creator seems content to use the goodness of His creation to awaken hearts that have forgotten their way home.

Perhaps that is one reason old songs endure. Long after the details of their origins have faded, they continue carrying fragments of truth from one generation to the next.

Wild Mountain Thyme begins not with great achievements or heroic deeds, but with blooming trees, growing herbs, and the arrival of summer.

“Oh, the summertime is coming,

And the trees are sweetly blooming,

And the wild mountain thyme

Grows around the blooming heather.”

At first glance, these words appear simple enough. Yet simplicity has always been one of God’s preferred languages. For those who have eyes to see, the beauty is found in what is unseen.

The opening chapters of Scripture reveal a Creator who fills the world with abundance before He ever asks anything of humanity.

Fruit-bearing trees appear before human labor, rivers flow before cities exist, beauty emerges before usefulness.¹. Creation was never merely a stage upon which humanity would perform, it was a gift to humanity that declared a testimony.

The heavens proclaim His glory.² The earth bears witness to His generosity. Seasons arrive and depart with astonishing consistency. Spring follows winter. Morning follows darkness. Life continually emerges where death once appeared to reign. Creation has always preached.

It is no accident that the biblical story begins in a garden, nor is it accidental that the story concludes with a city filled with gardens, rivers, trees, and the presence of God dwelling among His people.³

The story begins and ends with God making His home among humanity.

Its the in between moments of the story that the greater depth reveals the profound goodness of the character of God. Not only does God create and invite, but is has drawn near as the pursuer, seeking the land for those who will faithfully walk with him once again. The invitation appears throughout the entire biblical narrative.

Enoch walked with God⁴,Noah walked with God,⁵ Abraham was called to leave behind everything familiar and walk toward a promise he could not yet see,⁶Israel followed God through wilderness paths where there were no roads.

The Hebrew Scriptures frequently describe this life of faith with the word halak—to walk.⁷. Modern readers often think of faith primarily in terms of belief. Ancient Israel understood faith as a way of life. Faithfulness was not simply agreement with God’s existence. It was learning to order one’s steps in covenant relationship with Him.

The biblical understanding of faith is far richer than simple belief. The Hebrew word ’aman (אָמַן) carries the idea of firmness, reliability, and trustworthiness. It is the root from which the familiar word Amen is derived. To say “Amen” is more than agreement; it is a declaration that something is true, trustworthy, and worthy of standing upon.

From this same root comes emunah (אֱמוּנָה), often translated as faith or faithfulness. Yet emunah is less concerned with intellectual certainty and more concerned with steadfast loyalty. It describes the kind of trust that continues walking long after the excitement of the journey has faded.

Although the original artists who created Wild Mountain Thyme may not have purposed to reveal a God who faithfully pursues relationship, the story is beautifully familiar to the biblical story. “Will you go?” is not simply a question about destination. It is a question about faithfulness. “Will you go?”

To walk with God, to halak, to tabernacle, to commune, to merely dwell in his presence.

This desire to dwell together lies at the heart of the biblical story.

When God instructed Israel to build the tabernacle, He explained its purpose with remarkable clarity: “Let them make me a sanctuary, that I may dwell among them.“⁸

The Hebrew word translated as “tabernacle” is mishkan, derived from the root shakan, meaning “to dwell” or “to settle among.“⁹

The tabernacle was never merely a structure, it was a declaration of God’s heart. The Creator desired proximity, he desired presence. The God who once walked with humanity in Eden had not abandoned His original intention, He still desired to dwell among His people.

This is precisely why John stated “And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us.“¹⁰

God did not merely send instruction, he didn't first send a Law, he came Himself. The One who dwelt in the tabernacle entered creation, the One who led Israel through the wilderness walked dusty roads beside fishermen, he One whose presence filled the sanctuary sat at tables with tax collectors, sinners, and ordinary people.

This is why the table occupies such a central place in Scripture, the table is where strangers become family, where stories are exchanged, where grief and celebration often sit side by side, where covenant is remembered, where hearts are barred open.

The communion table stands as one of Scripture’s most beautiful reminders that God’s invitation has never changed.¹¹. The bread and cup do more than remind believers of Christ’s sacrifice, they remind them of His presence, they testify that the God who walked in the garden, dwelt in the tabernacle, and entered creation through Christ still desires fellowship with His people. The table invites the pursued into a betrothal.

Today, He still invites, He's still pursuing, He still welcoming.

In many ways, Wild Mountain Thyme echoes that same invitation.

The song repeatedly asks a simple question:

“Will you go?”

Beneath the romance of the lyrics lies a deeper truth that resonates throughout Scripture. God has always been asking His people to walk with Him, to leave what is familiar and to trust what cannot yet be seen, to follow Him into places of beauty, mystery, challenge, and transformation.

The Christian story is ultimately the story of a God who continually extends that invitation through countless means, through mountains and rivers, through blooming trees and changing seasons, through bread and wine, through communion, through family gatherings and shared meals, through stories told around tables after funerals.

Even in moments of grief, creation continues bearing witness, summer still comes, trees still bloom. Wild mountain thyme still grows among the heather.

And the God who created all of it continues calling His children home.

For those gathered to remember John, that truth offers a profound comfort.

Human lives are not measured merely by accomplishments, possessions, or achievements. They are measured by countless responses to God’s invitation. They are measured by the journey, the conversations, the faithful response to the faithful pursuer. A humble yes to the author and perfector of life itself.

Dedicated to the memory of John Shanley, to his journey through the heather, to the family who gathers to remember him, and to my mother, Mary Liz. Thank you for your dedication to tabernacling faithfully with Jesus Christ and your dedication to revealing the love of Christ through honoring John-in all the details.

Footnotes:

1. Genesis 1:11–12, 29–31.

2. Psalm 19:1–4.

3. Revelation 21:1–3; Revelation 22:1–5.

4. Genesis 5:24.

5. Genesis 6:9.

6. Genesis 12:1–4.

7. Hebrew halak (הלך), “to walk,” often describes covenant faithfulness and life lived in relationship with God.

8. Exodus 25:8.

9. Mishkan (משכן) derives from shakan (שכן), “to dwell” or “to abide.”

10. John 1:14. The Greek eskēnōsen literally carries the imagery of tabernacling or dwelling among humanity.

• 11. Luke 22:14–20; 1 Corinthians 10:16–17.