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Contemporary Christian culture loves its “mountaintop experiences.” Harkening back to the biblical stories of Moses, Elijah, and Jesus, this figure of speech refers to profound encounters with the divine where the wall between heaven and earth is seemingly thinned. God is present. Theologically speaking, most Jesus followers recognize that God is everywhere, of course, but in these so-called mountaintop experiences God’s glorious presence feels fuller, or more revealed, in some sort of unexplainable way. It’s the the pinnacle of Christian mystical transcendence.
Mountaintop experiences are associated with conversion or spiritual renewal, so Christian culture often presumes their preeminence and vigorously promotes them. This is especially true within the evangelical world. In worship service contexts ranging from the Assemblies of God to InterVarsity to Hillsong Church, their aim is to create the psychological and spiritual conditions where “the Spirit moves in people’s lives,” i.e. mountain experiences. As a direct result of my deranged Pentecostal background, however, I’m rather dubious. And that’s being gentle.
Growing up, I heard all about the Azusa Street Revival, Toronto Blessing, Brownsville Revival, and Shekinah glory. They friggin’ loved Charles Finney‘s Lectures on Revivals of Religion and Leonard Ravenhill‘s Why Revival Tarries. This obsession with revivalism and the spiritual gifts drove them to pursue these euphoric–often bordering on hysterical–experiences. It seldom lasted, though. There was little evidence of sustained Fruit of the Spirit. Inevitably they’d come down the mountain glowing like Moses, then immediately break the tablets of stone.
I’m not the happy-clappy sort. By disposition, I’m skeptical of emotional frenzies, outstretched arms, and tall tales. Too often this stuff is characterized by short-term emotional manipulation by skilled BSers orators and musicians that leads to little if any long-term transformation. What have I seen reliably hold up? The “valley experiences” that nobody talks about. It’s a breakthrough of God’s grace that unexpectedly comes in a time of desperation, yes, but one of quiet reflection that’s emotionally healthy, intellectually measured, spiritually centered, and socially supportive.
The original beatniks had an interesting love-hate relationship with spirituality. They were suspicious of religious bureaucracy and wild spiritual ecstasy yet were receptive to mystical experiences of genuine spiritual transformation. I feel much the same way, though I try to come at things as a Jesus follower. That’s why I’m predisposed to trusting the lasting influence of deep-seated spiritual experiences that transpire during private conversations, academic lectures, contemplative services, and prayer vigils. It’s countercultural, but I trust the subtle over the overt.
