🌿 When the Mountaintop Starts to Bloom Again

From Winter Silence to Spring Revival: A Dream, A Shift, A Sign

I had a dream recently that I can’t shake—one that spoke so gently but so deeply to where I am in life right now.

In the dream, I found myself returning to a place I had been before—a mountaintop. It was a lush, green, peaceful place. The kind of place that feels like it knows you. I was walking through it, recognizing the curves in the road, the trees, the space around me. And then I realized: I’ve been here before.But in that previous dream—this very same mountaintop had been covered in winter.

It was cold. Silent. Still. The kind of winter where everything is technically still alive, but it looks dead. The trees bare. The air thin. The energy hushed. It was beautiful in a haunting way—but it felt lonely.

This time, though, everything was different.

The grass was green. The trees were full. The sun was warm. The place hadn’t changed—but the season had. And in this new season, something else was new too: you were there. You were mingling with people, smiling, present. We sat down with others and had lunch together. There was laughter. There was community. And I wasn’t alone.

🌬 Mountaintop Moments in the Middle of Winter

This dream reminded me that sometimes, even when we’re on a “mountaintop,” it can still feel dead.

We often think of mountaintops as high points, victorious seasons, breakthrough moments. But not every mountaintop is warm and sunny. Some are cold. Some are quiet. Some seasons of elevation come with loneliness, grief, or waiting. You can be exactly where God called you—and still feel like everything around you is barren.

That’s real. That’s honest. And that’s biblical.

📖 Scriptures for the Season

Let’s break this down spiritually, because the Word always gives us context:

🌨 The Winter Mountaintop – Waiting in the Wilderness

“He brought me up also out of a horrible pit, out of the miry clay, and set my feet upon a rock…”— Psalm 40:2 (KJV)

Sometimes the mountaintop is just a rock—a hard place, elevated but not yet flourishing. David knew what it was to be pulled from the pit but still waiting for the promise.

🌳 The Flourishing Season – When the Spirit Breathes New Life

“The desert and the parched land will be glad; the wilderness will rejoice and blossom. Like the crocus, it will burst into bloom…”— Isaiah 35:1-2 (NIV)

When God breathes, the wilderness blooms. The season changes. Life returns. Joy rises.

“He makes everything beautiful in its time.”— Ecclesiastes 3:11 (NIV)

The mountaintop didn’t change—time did.

💭 What If the Season Is Changing?

Lately, I’ve felt dead inside. Sad. Drained. Like I was still on that mountaintop but nothing around me was moving. No buds on the trees. No fire in my belly. Just… waiting.

But what if this dream was God’s way of showing me: the season is shifting.

What if it’s spring again?

What if the same place that once felt cold and lifeless is about to bloom?

What if He’s bringing people back into your life, not to restart the past, but to reflect the growth that has taken place since the last season?

🌱 Reflections & Encouragement

If you’re reading this and you’ve been feeling emotionally tired, spiritually numb, or wondering if life will ever feel alive again—I want to remind you:

• You might already be on the mountaintop.

• It just might still be winter.

• But spring is promised. Resurrection is real.

Just like nature, we go through seasons. But even the seasons that feel barren are part of God’s design. He is still with you. Still working. Still faithful. He doesn’t waste mountaintop winters.

🙏🏽 A Prayer for You

“Lord, thank You for every season—even the quiet, cold ones. Help me not to confuse stillness with abandonment. Remind me that You are the God of growth and timing. Let me begin to feel the warmth of what’s coming. Let what was dead in me come alive again. In Jesus’ name, amen.”

✨ Final Thought

You’ve been on that mountain. You’ve endured the winter.But don’t be surprised if, one day soon, you look around—and it’s green again.