Coming Down the Mountain

The mountain-top experiences of life excite, inspire, and renew us. Graduating from school, going on a dream vacation, getting accolades at work, or bringing home a bonus paycheck can make us feel wonderful and boost our confidence. When we stand on the mountaintops of life, we find great strength to accomplish bigger things, come up with new ideas, and produce some of our best work.

For me, one such mountain-top experience was the 2025 Write to Publish Conference in Wheaton, Illinois. Often dubbed as one of the best Christian writers conferences in the country, my second-time at the conference did not disappoint. With the intentions to learn everything I could, I also desired to meet with industry professionals and peers I’d not seen since 2023. Having missed being in the company of other writers, I was convinced seeing them again would encourage me. After all, they also chased the same dream I ran toward.

At the conference, I was blessed above my expectations. After learning from incredible instructors, I met, laughed with, and prayed together with my peers. I stood among those who’d made it as authors, those who had published many books and were getting their messages and stories out to readers.

The inspiration went deeper, as I had the chance to see the actual desks where J. R. R. Tolkien and C. S. Lewis wrote their books, and got to touch the famous wardrobe—imagining myself climbing into it and escaping to Narnia. At the Billy Graham Museum, I stood at one of the greatest evangelist’s pulpit as though it were my turn to speak. It was humbling. I prayed I’d also rise to share God’s good news.

The closing keynote was a bittersweet moment. Although I had had a great time, and the speaker did a phenomenal job sending us off with an encouraging word, it’s tough to do a conference with a brain injury. I had paced myself well but was physically worn. I missed my wife and kids and couldn’t wait to tell them stories from the conference. As much as I wanted to stay, I needed to leave. I couldn’t wait to dive into my writing and put everything into practice.

I was standing on a mountain top, and I didn’t want to come down.

A thought began to trouble me. I knew that the second I left the campus, the rest of the world was waiting to snatch away my inspiration, energy, and drive. Would I get support for my writing from those in my hometown as I had from conference attendees? Would I have the same undivided time to devote to my writing as I had enjoyed for the past four days? I’d been submersed in a writing culture where it was easy to be creative, disciplined, and focused. When I got home and household duties, busy schedules, and real life would take hold, would my passion for writing be the same?

I made the drive from Wheaton to my hometown, arriving at 4:00 a.m., and felt bamboozled. I took a shower and crawled in bed. Figuring on sleeping late, I anticipated waking up to nothing more than the opportunity to put the things I’d learned from the conference into practice. I would enjoy a steaming hot fresh cup of coffee in my office and start working with a full tank of writing inspiration. I would enjoy the writing life I desperately wanted to live. I would do what I am called to be.

Until . . .

Coming down from the mountain isn’t fun. And should it be? With all the expectation, energy, and glorification of going up mountain-top experiences, how could coming down from them be enjoyable?

I was unexpectedly woken up at 9:30 a.m. the next morning. After such a long drive the night before, four and a half hours of sleep felt like I’d only blinked my eyes. And although I didn’t feel refreshed, I figured, “How hard could starting to write be?” I’d grab a cup of coffee, go to my office, and the magic would surely continue.

With a brain that wouldn’t fully function, I stumbled downstairs and turned on the coffee maker. After the coffee perked, I took a hot cup to the office building my wife has termed as my “johnny hut” and struggled to get the doorknob to unlatch, only to see that a team of mice had called all their neighbors to party on my desk while I was gone. I grabbed disposable gloves, paper towels, and cleaning spray to sanitize my writing area. By the time I wiped everything down, set traps, and regrouped, my energy was depleted, and my injured brain felt overstimulated.

The coffee wasn’t great anymore, and the tank inside my soul seemed empty. I sat at a blank computer screen, with a blank mind, struggling to stay awake.

After reading a few emails, checking Facebook to see others’ conference photos, sulking in my bad mood, and wasting time, I headed for another cup of coffee. On the way to the house, I realized the once-well-worn path I had usually walked to and from my office was now hard to find. The grass was so overgrown that my normal walkway was tough to discern. Had it been that long since the lawn was mowed? I turned around and looked back at my office. How symbolic of not writing for a while, I mused. The path to my office has disappeared.

***

Although the details of coming down from my mountaintop may be different from others, we’ve all had similar let-downs. The highs of life are a lot of fun. Coming down from them are not. It makes me think of Moses, who in Exodus 24-31 had an incredible mountain-top experience with God. While spending forty days free from the distractions of the world—and in God’s presence—the Lord spoke to him, revealed his new plan, and gave him the tablets we know as the Ten Commandments.

My mind drifted. I imagined dwelling on a mountaintop with God for such a length of time.

But Moses’ mountain-top experience didn’t last forever either.  His anger burned when he discovered his people turning their hearts to a false god. I feel for Moses. No doubt he was ready to lead the Israelites into the goodness of what God had just revealed to him. Instead, the sweet communion with God, inspiration, and anointing quickly dissipated into intense frustration as Moses broke the tablets of stone and ground the idol to powder.

Moses had good reason to be angry, but if we aren’t careful when coming down from mountain-top experiences, we can become disillusioned, depressed, and dysfunctional. Isn’t that what our adversary desires? Just as in Moses’ example, Satan’s tactics are designed to keep us from God’s plan and stop our productivity.

Looking ahead, we have a hard question: what do we do in those difficult times? Is there some way we can recover from mountaintop descents?

Searching for answers, I opened my Bible to Exodus 33 and was inspired by Moses’ drastic actions. He took the tabernacle, pitched it far off from the camp, and gave it a name. “The Tabernacle of the Congregation,” was now the place where anyone who sought the Lord could get a little recharge.

The passage doesn’t tell us who else took Moses up on the offer, but it does say that he and his servant Joshua used it. In verse 9, the cloudy pillar came down and stood at the door of the tabernacle. The Lord talked with Moses. In what would otherwise seem like a moment of Moses’ despair, disheartenment, or disappointment, God spoke to him “face to face, as a man speaketh unto his friend.”[1]

I cannot think of a better way to recover from mountain-top mishaps.

We have moments when expectations don’t meet our reality. The world is often not ready for our ideas, our inspirations, or our enthusiasm. In moments that seem to crash down around us, it’s important to know that the same God who empowered us on top the mountain will also speak to us in the difficult moments at the bottom.

God did it with Moses, and He did it with me.

I encourage others to do the same. The next time discouragement from coming down from a mountain-top moment hits, get outside of the tough situation. Move from whatever the stressful “camp” looks like, set up a new home base, and spend some time with God.

Once this happens, it’s possible to stay atop the mountain. In fact, when communing with God, there won’t even be a need for the “mountain” anymore.

by Chuck Carr

[1] Exodus 33:11 KJV