REVEL, County Road 559, Hot Sulphur Springs, CO (2026)

05/12/2022

Visit werevel.org to browse several years worth of archives of REVEL’s DNA distilled weekly, read the letter from REVEL’s board and staff outlining the future of REVEL, and explore past retreat content such as worship music, cardboard testimonies, and more!

04/04/2022

I’m currently reading a book titled, “Gentle and Lowly: The Heart of Christ for Sinners and Sufferers,” by Dane Ortlund. First of all, what a subtitle. Jesus' heart for sinners and sufferers? Consider me interested!
I’m not finished with it yet, but thus far I’d highly recommend it. I don’t want to re-write Ortlund’s book here. I simply want to hold in front of us the reality contained in the title of the book. “Gentle and Lowly.” I didn’t realize this until I was given this book by my brother, but Jesus describes his own heart, his own personality, just once. You’re likely somewhat familiar with His seven “I AM” statements (the bread of life, the way, the truth and the life, the good shepherd, etc.), but it’s just once that he says in effect, “this is what I am like…my heart is like this…”
How, you ask, would JESUS - walks on water, firstborn over all creation, sits at the right hand of the Father on an everlasting throne Jesus - describe himself? So glad you asked.
“Gentle and lowly.”
Talk about unexpected.
Some of our translations give it as, “gentle and humble in heart.”
Out of all the descriptors he could have chosen to describe what He’s like, the posture and disposition of His heart towards us is…gentle and humble. I don’t mean to discount any of the other aspects of His character, His personality, or His mission - I just want us to consider that when He chose His own words to describe Himself He chose, gentle and humble.
Why? Good question.
We get this glimpse into what He’s like in Matthew 11. Just after He says, “come to me all of you who are weary and burdened…” and just before He says, “...you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.”
When I read those words and actually connect with my heart to what Jesus is saying it’s like the first warm day of spring after a long winter.
Read Adam's full post: https://www.werevel.org/distillery/2022/04/04-jesus-describes-himself

03/28/2022

We asked some of our friends to describe letting go and how Jesus walks alongside them through that process. Our dear friend Sarah finds words for this journey through poetry. We think you will love her words on letting go and invite you to find your own space of entering in with Him. Enjoy.

On letting go…
Expectations not met.
Love not returned.
Harsh words meant to leave a mark.
Mistakes. So many mistakes, both big and small.
Loss … of people, of hope … of peace.
I have been struggling more than usual with letting go recently.
I say “more than usual” because I cannot remember a time that I let go easily ….
But tonight is harder than most.
Words in my head circling. Chasing.
An endless cyclone of what was left unsaid and what can never be taken back.
And I’m supposed to let go of these men who were once my babies and the wild and boundless little boys that have shaped so much of my heart? Laughable. That worry is mine.
The realization that not all dreams will come to pass has settled on me with a weight I cannot shake off. Grief at the letting go of what might have been no matter how good the here and now is.
Death takes many forms. None of them gentle.
Anger, disappointment, hurt.
How does one “let go” of something you cannot hold?
Those things are woven into my heart, my life … how am I supposed to surrender what has become a part of the tapestry?
I have been struggling more than usual with letting go recently.
I am struggling to find God in the chaos.
Vines pulling at my legs, binding my arms, choking me. Consuming me.
Admittedly, I may not be looking as hard as I claim to be, ensnared as I am.
Preoccupied.
How am I simultaneously paralyzed and spinning so fast I am sure that I am about to perish?
The collision doesn’t make any sense.
But, I suppose collisions rarely do.
Read Sarah's full post: http://ow.ly/57cv50Itr9U

03/21/2022

I am realizing how risky it is to dream - really dream. To put language to our desires and hopes, knowing that we have no idea if that’s where our story is heading. I am noticing a congruence between how connected to my heart I am, and how willing I am to be honest about my longing/dreams/desires. To hold them. And not only recognize that they exist but honor them by letting them be known and listened to.

My dreams have shifted in this last season - they went from wanting a loud, epic, noisy life towards a quiet, rooted, tucked away life with people I love. I’ve noticed how that reflects different aspects of my personality - when I am mindlessly going about life; it is noisy, loud, ‘big’. But when I am connected, intentional, some would say ‘healthier’; my life is more quiet, rooted and tucked in. My counselor was the first to point that out - that maybe this recent shift in dreams for my life is showing a belief deep within me that a connected life is possible for the long run.

What I am learning from this realization is that the woman I hope I am becoming and the rhythm of life I hope is down the road is not going to appear and formulate out of the decisions from a disconnected, exhausted person. I need to start making the choices that the woman I hope to be one day would make. Choices to prioritize. To give my heart some attention. To walk and not run. To soak and not rush. To listen. To stop. To breathe.

Immediately as I write those words, I hear the whisper of the enemy saying that I will become lazy if I do that. If my default is rest, I will forget how to work hard or do things well under pressure. But sure enough, the Spirit is (currently as I am writing this) interceding for me with a kinder voice saying ‘Kristin, you have shown yourself you know how to work hard. The grit does not need to be your default. When you need to, you will. But there is more for you.

Read Kristin's full post: http://ow.ly/uW2R50InOfF

03/14/2022

When is the last time you stopped to really consider the model Jesus gives us in the Garden of Gethsemane? This has been stopping me in my tracks during this lent season.

I so enjoy Eugene Peterson’s rendering in the Message of this encounter in Matthew 26. After their last supper together, after His teaching on the vine and the branches, Jesus is in the Garden with his disciples. He steals away from the group with just Peter, James and John - by all accounts his 3 closest earthly friends.

Read this slowly.

Taking along Peter and the two sons of Zebedee, he plunged into an agonizing sorrow. Then he said, “This sorrow is crushing my life out. Stay here and keep vigil with me.”

39 Going a little ahead, he fell on his face, praying, “My Father, if there is any way, get me out of this. But please, not what I want. You, what do you want?”

Can you feel the humanity in that? Is your version of Jesus this honest? This vulnerable? This trusting? The sorrow of the moment is “crushing his life out.” He’s on his face asking God for any way out of what’s coming. Yup, I can see myself doing that. Then. Trust. Surrender. Letting go. “But, please, not what I want. You, what do you want?”

Goodness. There’s the model, friends. That’s the glimpse we get of the model Jesus offers for how to hold onto your heart on your worst day. This is what it looks like for a human in perfect communion with God to surrender amidst sorrow. Honesty. Wholehearted and aware of what He’s feeling, AND, deeply attached to the Father in a way that yields trust and surrender in the midst of it.

I long for that kind of attachment to God.

Read Adam's full post: http://ow.ly/EvLm50Ih8uw

03/07/2022

It was a perfect Colorado day for a hike - blue skies, highs in the 70’s, and mountain vistas in every direction. We packed our lunches and headed for a 10-mile “out-and-back” we found in a local trail book. A well marked trailhead made the beginning start with ease and anticipation.

2.5 miles into the hike we came to an expected junction where three trails crossed each other. What we saw in person did not match what we saw on the map! The trail signs only made it worse because one trail name wasn’t even on the map. We did our best to pick the trail we presumed would give us amazing views at the summit.

But after a mile on that trail we began to question if it was the correct one. It was another half mile when the trail began to descend, and descend, and keep descending. It was so frustrating!

Using the map seemed futile. But we gawked at it anyway in hopes of seeing something helpful. We invested time and energy in getting this far. Do we just keep going and hope it works out? At first that was our plan. It seemed like a waste to go back to that junction now. All we wanted was to find a way to make the current path we were on work by getting us where we really wanted to go.

So it was difficult, actually it was exasperating, to admit we needed to go back to the junction - the last point on this hike where we knew our location on the map. No one talked as we backtracked 1.5 miles. At first I was angry with myself for not choosing a better trail. Then I was angry with…I don’t really know…because we all did our best and yet it was wrong. What a waste of time and this sure wasn’t efficient!

That’s how it goes on this journey of becoming whole-hearted - there are plenty of times when it is wise, humbling, and kind to go back in order to go forward.

-Jeff

02/28/2022

Several years ago I was in a bleak, faithless place. So much so that, to the contradiction of my usual habits, I accepted an invitation from a pastor in town to meet & see how she & her church could serve me. (Me: Uh, ok, that’s weird, but at this point, why not?).
That was the first meeting of about 48 that would follow.
She mentioned that she thought it would help my process to ask someone to keep me accountable. Someone who I could share my questions, my process & my pain surrounding faith & life with. I was sure I was turning the tables on her when I asked if she would be that person. She turned them right back & said yes, & started showing up. Every week. That entire year.
It changed me. At the end of the year, I was still very much in process but had found a lifelong friend, & a Pastor who was a true shepherd to my heart.
I had kept a journal unbeknownst to her, of the ups and downs, of the pain, processing, word vomiting, of the yelling at God…at myself. Those pages were stained in tears. It was my soul on paper.
At the end of the year, I didn’t want to look at it, but I knew it was important to keep, to remember. I needed someone to hold it for me. I needed someone to remember WITH me. It felt too heavy to even have in my presence. With shaky hands, I closed it, wrote a note, & asked her to take it. I didn’t want to forget, but I didn’t have the strength to remember. Yet.
Recently, after holding it for years, she gave it back to me. We talked about how lucky we are to have people that can hold parts of our story for us when we just aren’t strong enough, how when we are ready, they can hand us back those parts that have now become pieces of the story that grew us, instead of a weight that’s too much to even look at.
Today I am thanking Jesus for history. Thanking Him that it can change from weight to glory. I am thanking Him for hearts that store journals for us until we are ready to look back at what has brought us forward to this moment.
Emily

02/21/2022

Surrender is the word God gave me this year. I’m not happy about it. I asked for a better word, like delight or joy. Surrender sounds hard, like giving up more of myself. I have given up so much already. I don’t want this word, but I’m trusting it’s from God. He gives us what we need, not always what we want. Yet, to be honest, I am ready to wave the white flag. I don’t want to fight so hard to be what the world, and even some in the church, think I should be anymore. I want to surrender to who He already knows I am.
What made me finally surrender to the word surrender was a picture of a woman flailing around in the ocean trying to keep her head above water. She was trying so hard and she was so tired and fear and anxiety were overtaking her. Lay back and float. Surrender. Quit flailing, quit trying harder.
Laying back in the loving arms of the Father is not giving up. I am letting the waves of grace take me where I am meant to be. Let the Father hold me up when the waves of life are crashing all around me. I don’t for one minute think this will be easy. It’s against human nature to lay back and float when I am trying so hard to keep my head above water.
I think surrender is about accepting where I am. Accept that I am in the water and nothing looks familiar anymore. I can choose to flail in fear or lay back and let the Father hold me. Even if I can’t hear him over the sound of the crashing waves. I’m choosing to accept that He made me with a tender and romantic heart. I accept that I never wanted to be where I am and I chose it. I accept that I am enough and not too much. I have wasted time and it’s not too late. I’m choosing to accept where I am and surrender to where God is taking me. Where do you need to surrender to God’s goodness right in the midst of your humanness?
~Amanda

02/14/2022

From the archives.
Lately I’ve been thinking about hope and joy. What does it actually look like? Don’t get me wrong, I’ve felt joy. I know hope. Yet there are facets of hope and joy that we may be missing out on because we think it should feel or look a certain way.
I’m realizing that at times I’ve been force feeding myself what I thought hope and joy looked like. I mistakenly thought joy needed to be big and grandiose. I thought that to be hopeful would mean I walk around peaceful and steady at all times. I run myself over with pep talks: Just decide you’re okay. Grab hold of hope that’s yours. Mind over matter. Stay positive. Remember your promises. Smile through it. Just choose joy.
Of course these aren’t all bad sentiments. But for me they can be more toxic than helpful, & I’ll eventually gag on my own fraud. I am trying to swallow what didn’t seem true. Some days I can't smile through it, & decide at once that everything’s okay, that I’m okay.
I’m starting to think joy may be more subtle. What if hope comes to us by way of a winding, bumpy road? Maybe hope looks like letting go or moving slowly instead of pushing through. Hanging on by our fingertips instead of standing on a mountain top. Joy can be shouting from the rooftops, but is more often felt w/in quiet whispers of prayer & praise in the middle of the night. Maybe hope is permission to be where you are, to feel the process. And, perhaps joy is when you realize the process won’t kill you but will eventually bring you back to life. In recent days hope for me is awareness that I made it through a hard day, or surprising myself with a deep belly laugh. It’s choosing to move forward, even when I’m afraid. Joy is a friend holding hope for me, when I can’t. Take time to ask yourself how you could define hope & joy in new ways today? I’m finding quiet joy as I pause & breathe in small moments that will eventually collect into greater victories. My invitation to you is to do the same!
-Kim

02/07/2022

Sometimes to go forward we need to first go backwards. Meaning, in order to go forward wholeheartedly and integrated (rather than in a perpetual day by day parade of avoidance, distraction, and numbness) we actually need to revisit the wounds, the losses, the traumas big and small that disintegrated us along the way.

Very simply speaking, pain that is ignored can’t be healed. Loss that is minimized won’t be let go of. Relational repair that is avoided will only fester.

I’ve been slow to get on board. Life coming undone and no longer being able to smile my way through has been a huge catalyst for me to explore undealt with areas of my story. And, I come at this exploration from a firm belief that God actually is good all the time. That He actually is worthy of all my attention and devotion in every moment - regardless of it’s a good day or bad day.

I believe in counseling - I see a counselor every other week. I’ve consistently seen counselors for years now. I need help engaging the traumas and losses of my story so that I can move forward in health rather than denial.

And, today, what I’m realizing is that, for me, the “going back” can easily turn into a pretty godless, self-centered, self-pity type experience. Somewhere along the way, in doing the good and necessary work of healing past wounds, I lost sight of God with me. I got focused on the human losses and lost sight of faith in good God who leads me beyond what I can see and what I’ve experienced to this point.

For someone wired like I am, for a time, it’s been helpful to focus so intently on MY heart and MY story. As a pattern I’ve been a pretty professional avoider of hard emotional things. So acknowledging the hard is good for me.

Read Adam's full post: http://ow.ly/92r150HMVZ4

01/31/2022

This month we've been focusing on rest. Rest looks different to each one of us. As you ask Him into your process, to guide you into what healthy rest looks like for you personally, we want to offer you some resources that the authors of the posts you have read this month are enjoying. Our staff are being led by these books and practices to engage rest and a slowing of pace. Whether that involves intentionally driving the speed limit in the slow lane (Ruthless Elimination of Hurry) or taking the time to pause daily and intentionally read a Liturgy and let it permeate in a new way (Common Prayer), we invite you on this journey with us of discovering fresh ways to practice rest.

Check out all our favorites for this month: http://ow.ly/R2jM50HHAnh

01/24/2022

Resting scares me. That is the truth. I have found that when I pause to rest, there is almost always something that has been sitting idle, right under the surface, that awakens & rises.
Typically, for me, it's tears, & I do not love crying.
Let me take you into my process for a moment.
I pause, rest. I allow space for Jesus to talk, to get a word in edgewise. It sounds something like this:
“Hi Emily.”
I hear my name & I can feel the tears welling up already. I long for this connection. A simple, “hello,” directed categorically toward me. “Jesus? You see me?” It's a simple statement, why have I been fighting to avoid hearing it?
“Emily…hi... How are you?”
Tears escaping their home now. I know this feeling, I have started to breathe, to embrace the connection, to consider rest. I am seen. My guards are down.
Isn’t it an odd reality that we are asked “how we are” frequently, but rarely are we asked this from someone who really wants to sit & hear the answer? This question can be a game changer when it’s asked genuinely.
Can you think of the last few times you’ve been asked that question with a desire from the asker to truly know your answer? With the asker ready to be ok with whatever comes out of your mouth? To have the space to answer honestly & without shame? Even if your answer is, “I am not good”. To know there is no expectation to pad the response with things like, “better than I deserve,” or, “it’s been hard but it could be worse?” It is almost too overwhelming for me to consider answering this way. Why is that?
When I pause to rest with my Father I know that His intentionality, in a simple, “hello,” isn’t something to be ignored. He is there waiting for me to make space, to lay my distractions and my “busy” aside and answer Him fully. He is enamored by me both when I am active AND when I am in rest, I do not know what to do with that.

Read Emily's full post:
http://ow.ly/YHMh50HyuSb

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