The Conference Mountaintop Isn’t the High. It’s the Detox.

There’s a script we’ve absorbed in Christian life... especially around retreats and conferences.

Mountaintop = high.

Regular life = grind.

We go to retreats and conferences hoping to “get filled.” Maybe cry a little. Maybe sing that throwback worship song that always gets us. Maybe feel something again.

And then we come home to a full calendar. To headlines filled with conflict and catastrophe. To the guilt of not living up to what we committed to. 

Some of us experience a lingering ache of “I still don’t know what I’m doing with my life.” So we say things like, “I just wish I could’ve stayed on the mountain.”

Or maybe we don’t say anything. We just grow numb and jaded. The mountaintop starts to feel like a tease. Or worse, like a manipulated high that fades fast.

But what if we’ve misunderstood the point? What if the mountaintop was never the high?

What if it was the detox?

The Transfiguration as a Sacred Interruption

Most of us aren’t falling apart. We’re just exhausted.

We’re in a frenzied perpetual state of multitasking, moving from thing to thing, living in a world that never stops buzzing. We’re always scrolling, always stimulated. Yet we’re still numb.

Retreats and conferences are opportunities to experience sacred interruptions that take us out of the noise long enough to ask:

• What’s going on in my soul?
• Who is Jesus again?
• What does God want from me right now? This kind of sacred interruption isn’t just theoretical. We also see it in Scripture. 

Mark 9:2–9 tells a mountaintop story, where Jesus takes Peter, James, and John up an actual mountain. There, he’s transfigured — radiant, otherworldly. Moses and Elijah show up. It’s a holy, terrifying moment. 

Peter does what we all would’ve done: “Let’s build tents and hang here forever!”

But Jesus doesn’t let them stay.

He leads them back down — into arguments, illness, and real-life tension. Into betrayal, injustice, death. To the cross.

The Transfiguration wasn’t an escape from reality, but a revelation for reality. Jesus didn’t show Peter, James, and John this glimpse of glory so they could avoid the suffering ahead, but so they could anchor their faith through it.

This “mountaintop” moment was a sacred interruption — an experience that would stay with them through every valley to come.

What Kansas Taught My Family

This summer, my family and I drove 5,000 miles from Illinois to California and back. Three kids. One minivan. Endless shrimp chips. We hit literal mountaintops, rode San Francisco Cable Cars, and even did yoga in a Redwood forest. But what stuck with me?

Kansas.

Straight. Flat. Beautiful I-70. Nothing fancy for miles. Somewhere outside Salina, we paused Spotify and my kids stared quietly out the window. For about 40 miles, nobody said a word.

Yet it wasn’t awkward. It was sacred.

Not because of some magical moment or tourist destination or cathartic emotional family connection, but because, for once, we had space. No distractions. No screens. Just the quiet gift of being fully present. That's what retreats and mountaintops can offer you. They're not meant to dazzle you, fix you, or give you a spiritual high to chase after. They’re meant to help you pause long enough to notice what’s been there all along: beauty. ache. longing. grace. 

And most of all... Jesus.

Still present. Still speaking. Still inviting us deeper.

Conferences and Retreats as Sacred Interruptions

I’m helping lead Urbana 25 this year.

Yes, it’s a major event with thousands of students, global worship, and incredible speakers. But that’s not what makes it sacred.

It’s sacred because you don’t have to show up with your life all figured out. For nearly 80 years, Urbana has been a place where people just like you show up with their doubts, fears, hopes, and dreams for a big, beautiful, and broken world. 

You don’t need perfect faith or the right words. You just need to come as you are — with your real questions — and let the God of every tribe and tongue meet you.

Questions like:

• “God, what are you doing in the world?”
• “What are you saying in your Word?”
• “What does it mean to follow you now?”

And you won’t do it alone. There's community, prayer, coaching, and an opportunity to join the global Church as it continues to show up faithfully in the world — even while you’ve been wondering if God still speaks. Urbana, like any other conference, isn’t a spiritual high to chase, but a space to breathe again.

You Don’t Have to Chase the High

So maybe this year, don’t dismiss that retreat or conference invite too quickly. 

Whether it’s Urbana, a fall retreat with InterVarsity, or even a quiet Saturday with your church — say yes to the sacred interruption. 

Not because you need another event on your calendar, but because your soul might need room to breathe.

God can still meet us on the mountain. But he doesn’t meet us there so he can pull us out of real life forever. He meets us there to remind us of what’s truly real and send us back changed. 

As you return to campus from your InterVarsity fall conference or retreat, how might God be inviting you to view your experience differently? Want even more of a detox moment? Attend Urbana 25 with your friends this December to encounter Jesus and what he’s doing in the global Church.