It takes a glance, and you are with me.

Looking down at my feet as I walk, stony road, difficult climb, I look up and around and catch my breath.

There you are: in that shadow. There you are: behind that tree.

Now may I walk on, with sturdy back and light step.

It took but that glance.

(Letter #4085)

Devotions from a mountain of grace.

You’ve found a quiet place.

The Higher Journal is a collection of whispered devotions—written before the world wakes, on a mountain only grace could build.

These letters arrive without fanfare. There is no news here. No commentary. No agenda.

Only space.

Some posts come weekly. Some more often. They are gathered from silence, written with prayer.

If you’re looking for breath and beauty, you’re home.

Walk with me.

– from the mountain

Standing along the cliff, wind upsweeping from the valley.

Where was green and verdant, now calamity below. Up here, it little touches us.

Can I pour down my joy upon those below? Will they accept it?

Shall I wait for them to climb here, by ones and twos?

Let me be a willing oasis, Lord.

(Letter #4084)

The small of raw earth, fresh in the morning as I walk the field.

Soon, dwellings will appear where once was corn.

Someone like me may later look out over the valley and thank you, Lord, for unlooked-for providence.

Why grumble, when you turn even scars to joy?

Grant me acceptance, Lord.

(Letter #4083)