After the Mountaintop: Living Faithfully in the Valley

Just three weeks ago, I arrived home from True Woman ’25—still riding high on the spiritual joy from the powerful messages, the heartfelt worship, the thrill of gathering with thousands of women who long to know Jesus, the sweet fellowship with my coworkers, and the blessing of sharing it all with my teenage daughter.

While I knew those feelings wouldn’t last, I didn’t expect to be jolted back to reality quite so soon.

Not even twelve hours after I arrived home, a situation that had recently shown glimmers of hope took a discouraging turn. My son slipped back into a struggle we hadn’t faced in a long time. My husband was wrestling with the aftermath of a major disappointment at work. I found myself impatient and snippy with my kids. And soon my husband and I had one of the biggest disagreements we’d had in a while—one that exposed layers of selfishness in my heart that I hadn’t recognized before.

As I descended from the mountaintop of the conference into the valley of everyday life, the elation I’d felt seemed to waft away like morning mist, dissolving into the ordinary rhythms of the day. Yet I don’t want that spiritual summit to be just a fleeting moment on the timeline of my life—I want it to lead to lasting change.

Wanting that and living it out, however, are two very different things.

Mountaintop Moments Aren’t Meant to Last

Mountaintop experiences are wonderful. Much like Peter on the Mount of Transfiguration, we want to linger in those moments (Matt. 17:1–4). My son has shared that he wishes he could stay at his youth group retreats forever. He loves the community, the shared passion for Jesus, and yes, the fun activities and the break from normal responsibilities and distractions. But while those experiences are life-giving, we’re not meant to live there.

As Oswald Chambers wrote in the classic devotional My Utmost for His Highest,

We are not built for the mountains and the dawns and aesthetic affinities, those are for moments of inspiration, that is all. We are built for the valley, for the ordinary stuff we are in, and that is where we have to prove our mettle.¹

Life in the valley often looks much the same as it did before we went up the mountain. Yet what should be different when we come down is us. What God has spoken into our hearts on the mountain should shape how we respond to the realities of the valley—how we speak to our families, how we handle the pressures at work, how we endure a health challenge, or how we trust Him when the outcome is still unknown. It should change how we live each moment of every day.

And while we may have changed, those around us usually haven’t. That disparity can make reentry all the more difficult—and at times, disheartening.

Do the Next Thing

Returning to normal life after these experiences can often feel like a hard thud. We can’t stay on the mountaintop forever, but we can learn to live out what we received there.

Maybe we were motivated by a speaker to spend more time in God’s Word. Maybe we sensed the Lord prompting us to repair a broken relationship or to tell someone about Jesus. Maybe we felt inspired to pursue a dream He placed on our heart. But when our feet hit the ground, we’re overwhelmed with the enormity of the task and not sure where to begin.

We may not be able to make a dramatic turn or accomplish those big dreams right away, but we can take one small step in that direction. We can do the thing—the task—right in front of us. Maybe that’s journaling one thought from our Bible reading that morning. Or texting someone to say, “How are you?” or “Let’s get together for coffee.” Or choosing to put your phone away for ten minutes during a time you would usually scroll and using those moments to pray instead.

And after you do that one thing right in front of you? Then you do the next thing. And then the next thing after that. And the next.

Our path in the valley isn’t usually changed by sharp detours or dramatic 180s. Instead, it’s as we make small, faithful steps that we begin to move steadily in a new direction. As we take steps of obedience—trusting in the Lord and not leaning on our own understanding—He directs our paths and brings lasting change (Prov. 3:5–6).

Living Faithfully in the Everyday

As we follow God one step at a time in the valley, He also calls us to do it faithfully. That means we keep at it—we don’t give up when it’s hard or we don’t feel like it. We ask for His forgiveness when we mess up, and then we start again and keep going. Moment by moment, day by day, week by week.

When a crisis comes—when you lose your job, when your teenager makes an unwise choice, or when your elderly parents can no longer care for themselves—be faithful in living out what you learned on the mountain.

When life feels smooth—when you receive a bonus at work, when your ministry event goes off without a hitch, or when your children are doing well in school—be faithful in living out what you learned on the mountain.

And when days feel ordinary—when you spend your time making meals, doing dishes, going to work, paying bills—and the sameness and drudgery begin to pull you down, be faithful in living out what you learned on the mountain.

In the joys, the sorrows, the mundane, the ordinary, we’re called to be faithful. And let me tell you—the ordinary and mundane can sometimes be the hardest places to live. We may come down from the mountain thinking we must do great things, but God is calling us to be great in the ordinary, so that one day we can hear Him say, “Well done, good and faithful servant!” (Matt. 25:21).

Keep Eternity in View

When you were on that mountain, your purpose was clear. You were encouraged to press on in your circumstances, to put Jesus first and to say “Yes, Lord!” But in the valley, that clarity can fade. It’s easy to become discouraged in the drudgery—the ordinary, the unnoticed. To struggle to see purpose in what we do, to find meaning in our days. That’s why we need to keep eternity in view.

I recently watched a video titled “What Happens after Your Funeral.” This “internet parable” explored the hours, days, weeks, and months after someone dies—and how quickly those who knew the deceased return to their normal routines. “You’ll be forgotten at an astonishing pace,” it said. And “if people can forget you so easily, then who are you living your life for?”

Great question. But the answer the parable offered was not. The video’s solution was to “live your life for you,” to “embrace your true self and make your happiness a priority.”

But that message offers no hope in the valley. It’s when we live for Jesus that even our smallest acts take on eternal significance.

When you clean the bathroom, pay bills, and prepare meals for your family, you do it for Jesus.

When you parent teenagers who question every word out of your mouth because they think they know so much better, you do it for Jesus.

When you navigate family disagreements, workplace stress, and conflict within your church, you do it for Jesus.

You live faithfully for Christ in both the little moments and the big. The world may not count these things as important, or even notice them, but God does (Gen. 16:13). He notices everything about you, even the number of hairs on your head (Luke 12:7). And while people may forget you after you are gone, He never will. He promises,

“I will not forget you.
Look, I have inscribed you on the palms of my hands;
your walls are continually before me.” (Isaiah 49:15–16)

The things we do in the valley matter. When we live for Christ—when we behold Him and put Him first—our actions take on significance that goes far beyond ourselves.

Oswald Chambers said, “The mount is not meant to teach us anything, it is meant to make us something.”² May our mountaintop moments make us more like Jesus, so that when we return to the valley, we live faithfully for Him—one step at a time.

¹ Oswald Chambers, My Utmost for His Highest (Grand Rapids, MI: Discovery House Publishers, 1963), 275.

² Chambers, My Utmost for His Highest, 275.