I have both the violent turbulence of the storm and the quiet promises of God in the storm. And what I must work to remember is that something is not necessarily stronger simply because it’s louder.

With God, a mountain before me is soon to be a memory behind me.

The restless adventurer within me stands eye-to-eye with the fear that has stepped directly in my path. And the thing I absolutely must not do is to blink first.

My soul is utterly frantic for that single place of perfect refuge from which I can clearly see the winds rip and hear the tempest tear, yet despite the ferocity of the tumult I rest in such a sublime peace it is as if neither existed at all. And if I have not yet found such a place, it is because I have not yet found God.

Of course I fear the journey. For if I didn’t, I’d be left with the horribly disappointing sense that it was never big enough. And if there’s something I should fear, that would be it.

The challenge is never based on the size of the obstacle that stands before me. Rather, it is dictated by the degree of faith that rests within me.

Ignorance is avoiding that which stands in front of me out of the misplaced hope that it will put what I’m ignoring behind me. Instead, it’s most certain to drop it on top of me.

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

If there’s one thing that will stop people from achieving their goals, it’s a wall. However, as I see it, without a wall there’s no place to build a door.