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“I gave you a land on which you had not labored and cities that you had not built, and you dwell in them. You eat the fruit of vineyards and olive orchards that you did not plant.” -Joshua 24:13

We all sought after mountaintop moments, and we wanted the elevation it displayed to prove that we were worthy of our breath. We thought that if we could accomplish this victory that it would validate all of the sleepless, tearful nights. However, as we ascended, we felt the air get thin. Each step made it feel harder to breathe, requiring deeper inhalation, just to get a better fill in our lungs. Temperatures rapidly dropped as our hiking boots began to crunch deeper into the snow that now sprawled across the path.

Lonelier paths revealed the companionship of God. As we kept to His warmth and word, He reminded us that the journey wasn’t promised to be easy. It was promised to reveal us, and this identification wasn’t solely for those around, it was for us too. After a few moments of emphasizing the winds, the cold, and the dizziness we felt, praise began to fill our lips.

God then held up a mirror to show us how beautiful we were. It was more than the way our hair coiled and our outfit’s color coordination. He showed us our heart, and told us that we loved deeply. In moments where we could’ve struck the rock, we chose to speak soothingly. Our lips no longer turned against us in our lowly moments. Instead, we learned to approach ourselves gently and firmly, encouraging movement towards our higher calling and purpose. We didn’t make excuses for stagnancy, and yet we took the time to rest too.

I left the group to look at the clouds that surrounded this mountaintop. These clouds lingered with heaviness, knowing that this destination was not our journey’s peak. This cloud traveled far enough to know that the sky wasn’t the limit, and it knew that elevation was only preparation for the blessing of its downpour. That revelation reminded me of the foolishness behind greed. What was the purpose of hoarding it all if in the end all we can do is release?

I didn’t ponder death in a way that made me scramble to cross-off to-do’s from my bucket list. These clouds reminded me that it was a gift when you aligned your walk with God. This walk centered itself on producing fruit that would feed generations, beyond personal lineage. In this thought, the desire to get supernaturally found balance in the calling to provide. God pointed out the importance of patience and separation, and then He reminded me that He never once left His position of sovereign.

I began to heavily sigh as I sat down on a moss-covered rock and looked toward the variety of blue hues that provided background for these clouds. The way it encapsulated the cloud’s precious movement without restriction inspired me. This blue giant didn’t hold the pressure of continuously occupying the sky. Its hues knew how to gracefully bow out of conversations and reiterate its effort when God led it back.

A tear slipped out of my eyes, instantly freezing against the bitter winds. I wanted to learn how to do the same. I wanted to unclench my hands and stop fighting for my identity. I simply wanted to be. I yearned to move forward without someone telling me that the sky was suffocation.

So what did I need in the midst of these wants?

Safety, comfort, confirmation, and a chance to escape?

Or did I need presence, patience, aligned pacing, and an ear to hear?

The last one made me take a deep breath. Oftentimes, in prayer, we can get so used to being the one who dominates the space with request and revisited experiences. However, God wanted the space to talk too. In the midst of my needs, listening was the most important. I recoiled in fear of what I’d hear. My heart embraced for all of my mistakes to be repeated in a carousel on why I cannot reach the star God told me about long ago. I began to tap my feet and move without meaning. My nervousness interrupting the former peace I felt in the observation of clouds.

What was God going to tell me? Surely He was going to respond with punishment for the force I applied to ventures, which were not assigned. Perhaps He’d yell at me for dating that one person who made the enemy proud. Maybe He’d stick His finger out at me for breaking a fast too early or watching that show which sowed lust into my garden. I surrendered in repentance.

How do I change– and how do I change fast? I’m on this mountaintop, heavily breathing while shivering, and now the visibility it provided to the Most High made me squirm with concern.

The sun began to shine directly on where we camped. Its rays began to warm the same areas that felt frozen and stiff. Quietness filled the air as the winds were stilled by the Hand of God. Clouds still circled around, moving freely without the need of another’s direction. My ears waiting desperately for the announcement and revelation…

“I will always love you Selah,” formulated by whispers, God poured these words into my heart instead.

My body slumped into a relieved yet astonished posture. I did not know the language behind what was unconditional, and here I sat, enveloped by the source of its love.