"And whatever you ask in prayer, you will receive, if you have faith."
— Matthew 21:22
There are days when we wake up carrying invisible mountains within us. Old wounds that will not heal, fears that paralyze, guilt that weighs like stones on the chest. In these moments, Jesus's words sound not like a promise but like a silent question: do we truly believe? The faith that moves mountains is not the one that merely recites verses or attends services out of tradition. It is the faith that dares to believe when everything inside us is screaming despair.
When Jesus spoke about removing mountains, He was not talking only about spectacular miracles. He was revealing a deep principle: our innermost beliefs shape our emotional and spiritual reality. The woman who touched the hem of Jesus's garment (Mark 5:25-34) had a mountain of shame, physical pain, and social exclusion, but her simple faith — the one that whispered "if only I touch his garment" — moved that mountain. Her healing was not only of the body, but of the whole soul.
Inner healing begins when we recognize that our mountains are not greater than the God we inhabit. It is not a denial of pain or a pretense that everything is fine. It is an act of courage to look at what hurts us and say: "I entrust this to the One who has authority over every mountain." Jeremiah understood this truth when he wrote about the Lord restoring health (Jeremiah 30:17). Faith waits, but it does not stay still. It walks, cries out, seeks, persists.
Think of one specific mountain in your heart today. That thing you believe is impossible to resolve, that wound that seems incurable, that fear that has paralyzed you for so long. Your task is not to move that mountain by your own strength, but to believe that the One who created the mountains can rearrange yours. This means bringing that pain to prayer with brutal honesty, without masks. It means seeking help when necessary. It means allowing others to accompany your process. It means, above all, trusting that you are not alone.
The faith that heals is the one that renews itself every morning. It does not wait for perfection to begin, does not wait to be worthy enough. It simply believes that the Father sees your pain, knows your mountain, and has the power to transform it. Your healing may not come as you expected or on the timetable you planned, but it will come — transfigured, carrying with it a depth of character and an intimacy with God you did not have before. The mountains, once moved by true faith, leave behind a fertile valley where grace can flourish.