It is not a matter of the size of the mountains that stand before us. For although the size of our faith might ‘pale’ in comparison, the size of our God handily ‘impales’ all comparisons.

With God, a mountain is nothing more than a road that we’ve mistaken for something that it’s not in order to excuse us from a journey that we fear.

No matter the height of them, faith takes the mountains that stand in front of us and makes them the road that passes under us.

If I am always standing at the bottom of the mountain longingly looking up, in all probability it is because I have heeded the pillaging dogma of mediocrity which persistently tells me that the dream is not worth the climb.

The roads of life are paved wide and skirt the mountains. And these very roads are choked with a steady stream of pathetically pedantic travelers who in reality have no intent of traveling. And if we are to discover the real travelers, much less join them, we will find them out on precarious paths that defy the roads and scale the mountains.

With God, a mountain is only a road waiting to happen.

Without mountains, we might find ourselves relieved that we can avoid the pain of the ascent, but we will forever miss the thrill of the summit. And in such a terribly scandalous trade-off, it is the absence of pain that becomes the thief of life.

We can only climb the mountains because there’s a valley that makes the mountain a mountain.

Don’t pay attention to the size of the mountain in front of you. Rather, think about what the view from the summit is going to be like.