Anointing doesn’t fall in the crowd

Mediocrity gathers in crowds.

It feeds off sameness—

off the dull hum of voices that echo only what’s comfortable, never what’s true.

They circle around each other like moths to a dim light, content in the lukewarm,

satisfied in the shallow, afraid to climb.

They applaud each other’s complacency,

calling it peace.

But it is not peace.

It is paralysis.

Mediocrity seeks its own level—

it flocks to the familiar,

to the lowlands where cost is avoided

and conviction is optional.

They are lovers of themselves more than lovers of God. They preach tolerance, but not repentance. They promote acceptance, but not transformation.

They speak of love,

but have long since forgotten its holy fire.

The anointing doesn’t fall in the crowd.

It descends in the wilderness—

where hearts are stripped of applause,

where comfort dies and dependence is born.

It’s in the desert where God trains His people,

where the called become crushed and the crushed become crowned.

It’s in the loneliness where intimacy is forged,

where the oil flows not from popularity,

but from pressing.

And glory?

Glory waits on the mountain.

It waits for those willing to climb.

Not to be seen, but to see.

Not to be known, but to know Him.

To ascend is to lose your footing in the world,

to say no to the crowd so you can say yes to the cloud of his glory.

It is the price of presence.

And only the hungry will pay it.

Why would you stay among the stagnant,

when the Spirit is beckoning you higher?

You were never meant to blend in with the complacent.

You were born to carry fire.

To live holy in a culture of compromise.

To speak the truth even when your voice trembles. To stand—when others bow.

To rise—when others settle.

To follow—even when none go with you.

The longer you stay among the satisfied,

the more your hunger will fade.

The longer you try to drag the crowd up a mountain they never wanted to climb,

the more you will descend in spirit.

Apathy is contagious.

And so is glory.

So choose wisely where you dwell.

Choose fire over familiarity.

Choose wilderness over applause.

Choose the mountain.

Because God does not dwell in mediocrity.

And neither should you.