"Every image is a story. Let Him meet you there."

My Testimony: The Mountain Ranges and the Heights of My Calling

There are places in the spirit where the terrain feels familiar, even if your feet have never walked them. For me, that place has always been the mountain ranges. In dreams, visions, and inner longings, I often find myself drawn to the mountains—soaring above them, standing upon them, or simply gazing into their horizon.

One particular range has become deeply etched in my heart: the Sierra Madre mountain range. I have dreamt of flying over it like an eagle, with wind beneath my wings and divine perspective guiding my sight. The view is always majestic, and the sensation is one of deep freedom—but also purpose. I don’t fly for escape. I fly for sight, warfare, and intercession.

Mountains in Scripture are often places of encounter, authority, and commissioning:

Moses met God on Mount Sinai.

Elijah stood on Mount Carmel in confrontation.

Jesus was transfigured on a high mountain.

And in my spirit, I know the mountains signify:

Elevation of vision

Separation for revelation

Intercession over territories

I believe I am being called as one who watches and wars from the heights—an intercessor and prophetic voice not bound to the noise below, but positioned in higher places for heaven’s agenda. I do not merely admire creation—I sense the weight of stewardship over it.

Even in real life, my heart is stirred every time I see mountain silhouettes in the distance. They don’t just inspire awe—they summon me to remember who I am.

In the mountain ranges, I hear the Lord say:

“Come up here. Let Me show you what must take place.” (Revelation 4:1)

The higher I rise in the Spirit, the clearer I see—not just the terrain below, but the scroll within me.

And so I walk, write, and war with the mountain ranges in view. They are more than landscapes.
They are altars of encounter,
watchtowers of vision,
and pillars of remembrance.

This is why I return to them in dreams. Because this is where heaven called me higher.

The mountain is not my destination. It is my vantage point.