Faith Can Move Mountains… But
Faith is a powerful force, a steady anchor in storms, a spark in the darkness, a belief in the unseen when the visible is unbearable. The age old adage “faith can move mountains” reminds us of the limitless potential that belief can unlock. And yet, in today’s world, that sentiment feels increasingly strained. We live in an age of relentless upheaval: wars rage on with no end in sight, natural disasters strike with terrifying frequency, politics polarize rather than unify, and the onslaught of information leaves us more confused than informed. Add to that the rise in hatred — online and offline — and the result is a world where keeping faith feels like trying to light a candle in a hurricane.
Once, faith was a quiet certainty. Today, it's often a desperate grasp. In regions torn by war, people’s faith in humanity, in peace, even in God, is tested to its limits. When bombs fall on homes or children grow up in refugee camps, how can one believe that good will prevail? When natural disasters wipe out entire communities, the question becomes: where is the divine in such devastation?
Even outside zones of conflict, daily life offers no shortage of disillusionment. Politics, once what we learned was the art of collective decision-making has devolved into spectacle, corruption, and division. People lose faith not just in institutions but in each other. Democracy feels fragile. Leadership feels hollow. Promises feel empty. And in this climate of cynicism, it’s no surprise that faith, in its spiritual, social, and personal forms is under siege.
Then there’s the digital storm: an endless flood of news, opinions, scandals, and tragedies. Every scroll delivers another reason to despair. We're overwhelmed by information, yet starved for wisdom. Facts are twisted, lies are amplified, and algorithms feed us outrage instead of understanding. In this climate, faith, already a delicate thing, is drowned out by noise. People struggle to trust what’s true, let alone what’s possible.
Photo by Nathan Dumlao on Unsplash
And beneath all of this runs a deeper current: hatred. Racism, misogyny, xenophobia, classism, not relics of the past, but roaring forces in the present. They divide families, communities, even nations. When people are targeted simply for existing, it becomes harder to believe in justice, fairness, or redemption. In such a world, the idea that faith can “move mountains” can sound naive or worse, delusional.
And yet, despite it all, faith persists. Not as blind optimism, but as a deliberate, sometimes defiant act. To have faith today is not to deny reality, but to face it and still choose hope. It’s the mother who rebuilds after a flood, the teacher who stays in a conflict zone, the voter who keeps showing up even when the system fails. It’s the protester who believes change is possible, the refugee who believes in home, the student who believes in tomorrow.
But here’s the truth: faith can move mountains, but it cannot do so alone. Belief must be paired with action. Conviction must be grounded in courage. Hope must turn into work. Mountains do not shift because we wish it so, they move because people dig, climb, break, and rebuild.
What today’s crises reveal is that faith, more than ever, must be collective. No one person can counter war, hate, or chaos. But communities can. Movements can. Entire generations can. When faith is shared, in justice, in healing, in each other; it becomes a force strong enough not just to move mountains, but to remake landscapes.
We also must allow for faith to change. Sometimes faith isn’t about certainty, it’s about questioning, doubting, and growing. It's about believing that even when the world is broken, it is still worth caring for. That even when people fail us, we can be better. That even when we feel powerless, our smallest action still matters.
Faith can move mountains, but only when it survives the earthquakes of our age. Only when it walks with the wounded, listens through the noise, and acts in spite of fear. It cannot thrive in isolation, in ignorance, or in silence. In a world battered by war, shaken by disaster, poisoned by division, and saturated with information, faith must be resilient, clear-eyed, and communal.
It must be the hand that rebuilds, the voice that uplifts, the light that refuses to go out. For while mountains may be tall, history has shown us time and again: people with faith, and action, can climb higher.
