JUMONVILLE, Pennsylvania — We are a country built on not one, but several, leaps of faith.

Certainly, it was a leap of faith when a young George Washington, then a lieutenant colonel of the colonial forces, found himself mired in a deadly skirmish here in this densely wooded mountaintop of Chestnut Ridge. He, his men, and ultimately his cause, protecting the property lines of the British colonies, would prevail.

That faith didn’t exactly work out the way Washington believed at the time. He was looking for glory and ascension within the ranks of Britain’s colonial army; what he ultimately achieved here was the first shots of the French and Indian War. It was a seven-year war that ultimately paved the way for the American Revolution and our country.

Faith is a funny thing. When we believe or accept something outside the boundaries of reason, as Washington did, we often get much more than what we set our beliefs in.

I went to Jumonville on Good Friday, and the mountaintop alternated between snow, a frozen mix, and bursts of brilliant sunshine. Sadly, access to the gleaming white steel cross, the largest in the country at 60 feet high, is closed.

The annual walk to the cross has been canceled, as well as the Easter sunrise service. If you are someone of faith, these types of closures, and the loss of the sway and purpose of traditions, has been difficult. Sacrifice has always been that way.

But what makes the people of this country extraordinary, whether their family has worked this land for nine generations or only been here since November, is the remarkable strength of our belief in each other, even when that belief is outside the boundaries of reason.

That core belief system in a higher power, each other, and the preservation of our liberties and freedoms are the leaps of faith that help hold us together as we navigate what the coronavirus pandemic has done to test those limitations of our greater purpose.

Certainly, Washington was tested when he was thrust into a battle he wasn’t looking for. He was tested again when he was thrust into the subsequent battle in the valley below and was tricked into signing a surrender treaty to the French.

He was tested again and again as he went from being a member of the colonial militia, to a gentleman farmer, to the commander of the Continental Army, to the first president of the United States.

Seventy years ago on this very same mountain top Washington fired the first shots that ultimately marked the beginnings of our country, the dedication for the 60-foot tall steel cross on a patch of land already towers nearly 2,500 feet above sea level was completed.

On a clear day, you can see three states and seven counties from this spot. Even on a dark, cloudy, windy, snowy day, it can help ease your mind and anxiety as you think of the things you treasure most — the hug of a parent, the grasp of a child's small hand, or the smile of a grandchild you haven't seen in longer that it seems fair to bare.

The freedoms you too often took for granted, or complained about because they didn’t fit your political beliefs, are now restricted. It makes one wonder for the thousandth time why you ever complained in the first place.

Like the American flag and each and every one of us, the cross here is a brilliant inspiration of hope, whether you are standing beside it or viewing it from below its vantage point on the ridge of the Appalachian Mountains.

And it reminds you that your great faith still burns within you.