That's the question underneath MOUNTAINS DON'T MOVE. And it moves through five positions:
THE MOUNTAIN IN FRONT OF ME — Before anything else, you have to name it. The diagnosis. The marriage. The grief that won't lift. It's too high to climb, too wide to go around, too solid to pretend it isn't there. This position is just honesty — standing at the foot of the thing and calling it what it is.
I DON'T ALWAYS LIKE HIS PLAYS — You did what you thought He asked. You followed through. And somehow you ended up here. You believe He's good. This doesn't feel good. Both are true, and you've stopped trying to make them agree. All that's left some days is four words on your knees: Thy will be done.
WHAT IF RESCUE ISN'T REMOVAL? — The hinge of the whole arc. A dangerous question slips in: what if I've been asking for the wrong thing? What if the blessing comes through the raindrops? What if the trials of this life are mercies in disguise? You don't want it to be true. But you can't un-ask it.
UP, DOWN, AROUND, THROUGH — Once the question has done its work, something steadies. He never promised the mountain would move. He promised He would not fail you. Maybe He takes you up and over it. Maybe down and through it. Maybe around. Either way — the same God who has never failed is not going to start with you.
THE LOVE THAT HELD ME — The mountain might stay right where it is. But the love that held you here is the same love that will hold you through. And now you know something you could only have learned here — so when you find someone else at the foot of their own mountain, you hand them the truth that carried you.
Five positions. One arc.
Which one are you in?
🎧 Listen on Spotify: https://tr.ee/6xn6P6CoGA
🎧 Listen on Apple Music: https://tr.ee/yRnzGwvlzr
