It takes a certain measure of faith to stand atop a mountain and know of its absolute existence. From the peak, it is impossible to perceive its height or its breadth or its depth. You can’t see its outline or its features.

What you can see is the horizon, the valleys below, and all the roads that twist and wind between the two. There really are only two things that will definitively tell you that you are indeed standing on the mountain. The first is that you have reached a height at which nothing else surpasses you. The second is that you made an upward journey unto that height.

Even with those factors considered, it still requires faith to actually believe that you are standing on what is likely the grandest geological feature in your immediate surroundings.

This is such a rich and beautiful metaphor for my own existence. I’ve endured hardships and I’m undergoing transition that is utterly terrifying. In the midst of all my personal chaos, I have an overwhelming desire to see the big picture. I want to know exactly what my life looks like from the outside. Am I making the right choices? Am I moving in the right direction? What will become of me?

Faith is required with every step. I have to keep believing that the details surrounding me are the very elements that makeup the mountain that I am standing on. There are stones and trees, streams and brooks. Subtle hints scattered all around me to tell me where I am.

Today I choose to believe that what is under my feet is solid rock. I choose to believe that the wind and rain and fire will not cause this mountain to move from under me. I will know with full confidence that even if the earth itself buckles beneath me, this mountain will remain.

I can’t see it. I can’t perceive it, but it is beneath my feet. It is constant. It is holding me up no matter what comes. My rock. My mountain.

My Jesus. He is here.


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