Finding My Stance

THE MOUNTAIN DOESN’T MOVE

The mountain is huge. Ancient. Rough around the edges. Unpredictable in ways that don’t care about my schedule or my feelings.

It doesn’t apologize for storms. It doesn’t flatten itself to be more accessible. It doesn’t explain why today is harder than yesterday.

The mountain just is.

And here’s the quiet truth I’m learning: the mountain isn’t my enemy.

Jesus once said to speak to the mountain and it would move.

I used to think that meant the obstacle would disappear on command.

Now I understand it differently.

Speaking to the mountain isn’t about denying its size—it’s about refusing to let it define me. It’s about addressing what stands in the way without internalizing it as failure, punishment, or identity.

Sometimes the mountain moves.

Sometimes I do.

Either way, faith still works.

THE CLIMBER’S REAL JOB

A mountain climber doesn’t conquer a mountain. That’s ego talk.

A real climber studies it. They test the surface. They listen to the wind. They respect the weather.

But above all else, they focus on stance.

Not speed. Not shortcuts. Not bravado.

Stance.

Before a climber ever moves upward, they decide where they stand.

Speaking comes before climbing.

Authority before effort.

I don’t charge the mountain hoping it will respect me. I set my stance and move with intention—because faith doesn’t rush terrain it hasn’t learned how to stand on yet.

My faith teaches me how my feet should be planted. How my weight can be distributed. How my body stays aligned even when the ground is uneven.

Because when the storm hits—and it will—the climber survives not by forcing the climb, but by knowing where to place themselves.

WHEN POSTURE IS OFF

I’ve learned that when my posture is wrong, everything feels harder than it needs to be.

When I lean too far forward—rushing, anxious, trying to control outcomes—I slip.

When I freeze in fear—afraid to move, afraid to choose—I get exhausted just standing still.

When pride tells me to ignore the weather, to act like I don’t need rest or help, I risk the fall.

The storm doesn’t change.

I do.

FAITH ISN’T ABOUT MOVING THE MOUNTAIN

I used to think having faith meant the mountain would shrink. That God would smooth the rocks. That the climb would suddenly make sense.

Now I’m learning something deeper.

Faith is learning where to plant my feet when the ground shakes.

Faith is trusting that even when visibility is low, the next step matters.

Faith is staying present—breathing steady, core engaged—while the storm does what storms do.

Faith doesn’t always eliminate resistance.

Sometimes it builds endurance.

Sometimes God removes the obstacle.

Sometimes He strengthens the climber.

And sometimes the miracle is that the mountain stays exactly where it is—and no longer owns me.

ONE STEP, ONE STANCE

I’m not trying to climb the whole mountain at once. I’m not trying to outrun the weather.

I’m learning to find my stance for this part of the climb.

And when my stance is right:

• The storm can come.

• The mountain can stay wild.

• The path can remain unclear.

I’m still standing.

And sometimes, standing is the bravest thing a climber can do.

This season isn’t about conquering everything. It’s about alignment. Posture. Presence.

I can get through it all.

I just have to find my stance.

Not because the mountain moves every time I ask—

but because I’ve learned how to stand when it doesn’t.