Mountain Moments: Anchored in Hope

Climbing toward the mountaintop can feel uncertain at times. The path isn’t always clear, the footing isn’t always steady, and the horizon can feel impossibly far away. But there’s something that keeps us steady when everything else feels shaky: hope.

As Paul wrote, “May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.” (Romans 15:13)
Our hope isn’t fragile—it’s fueled by God Himself, overflowing through His Spirit even when the climb feels steep.

The Bible calls hope an anchor for the soul. “We have this hope as an anchor for the soul, firm and secure.” (Hebrews 6:19). An anchor keeps a ship from drifting, even in the strongest storm. Hope in Jesus does the same for our hearts. It keeps us grounded, focused, and steady when life tosses us in every direction.

Hope isn’t wishful thinking. It’s not pretending everything is okay when it isn’t. It’s not a blind optimism that ignores reality. Real hope is trusting in God’s promises, knowing that He is faithful, and believing that He is working even when we don’t see the full picture.

When we anchor ourselves in hope, the climb doesn’t feel endless. The valleys don’t feel permanent. The weight of worry and fear loses its grip. We can breathe, trust, and keep taking steps forward, knowing that God holds the outcome.

The psalmist reminds us, “Yes, my soul, find rest in God; my hope comes from him. Truly he is my rock and my salvation; he is my fortress, I will not be shaken.” (Psalm 62:5–6)
When we rest in Him, even the stormiest paths can’t move us from His steady hand.

So whatever you’re facing today, remember this: your hope in Christ is unshakable. It’s steady, secure, and life-giving. Anchor yourself in it, and you’ll find that every step toward the mountaintop becomes a journey of peace and confidence, no matter the storm around you.

Mountain Moments: The Power of Perspective

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about how much our perspective shapes our experience of life. Two people can be standing in the same valley, looking at the same struggles, and feel completely different. One sees despair. One sees an opportunity to grow. One sees limitation. One sees God’s provision. Perspective changes everything.

Paul understood this better than most. He wrote, “Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.”  – 2 Corinthians 4:16-18.

What we focus on matters. When we dwell on the difficulty, the climb feels heavier and the valley deeper. But when we shift our eyes to Jesus, to His faithfulness, to the eternal perspective He gives, everything changes. The same valley suddenly feels smaller. The same climb suddenly feels manageable. And the same mountaintop feels within reach.

“Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things.” – Philippians 4:8

Perspective isn’t about ignoring reality. It’s about seeing reality through the lens of God’s truth. It’s about looking beyond what is visible today to the promises and glory He is building for tomorrow. It’s about trusting that every struggle, every uphill step, every valley lesson is part of the journey He is guiding.

The power of perspective is the power to transform a valley into a classroom, a climb into a refining fire, and every step into a chance to draw closer to Jesus. And when we embrace that power, the mountaintop isn’t just a destination – it’s a view we can experience every day.

Mountain Moments: Living from Victory, Not for Victory

One of the traps I’ve fallen into more times than I can count is believing I need to fight my way to victory. If I just worked harder, prayed longer, or tried to be a better man, maybe then I’d finally “win” at this Christian life. But the more I’ve wrestled with that idea, the more I’ve realized I’ve been starting from the wrong place.

The truth is, in Christ, we don’t fight for victory. We live from victory. The battle has already been won. The cross and the empty tomb settled it once and for all. Our part isn’t to conquer, but to walk in what Jesus has already accomplished.

Paul puts it this way: “But thanks be to God! He gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.” – 1 Corinthians 15:57.

Notice the tense – He gives us the victory. Not someday, maybe, if we try hard enough. It’s already ours in Christ.

That changes everything. When I’m tempted to measure myself by my failures, I remember Jesus has already overcome. When I feel like the climb is too steep, I remember I’m not climbing to prove myself – I’m climbing in the strength of the One who has already gone before me.

“In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.”  – John 16:33

Living from victory doesn’t mean life is suddenly easy. The climb is still real, the struggles still happen. But it means I’m not fighting alone, and I’m not fighting unsure of the outcome. The victory is secure. My role is to trust, obey, and keep walking in that truth. So today, let’s stop striving to earn what has already been given. Let’s stop chasing victory like it’s something just out of reach. In Jesus, it’s already ours. And when we start living like that’s true, every step of the climb becomes lighter, every valley feels less dark, and every mountaintop becomes a place of gratitude instead of pride.

Mountain Moments: Joy in the Climb

If the valley teaches us gratitude and contentment, the climb reminds us that joy isn’t just found at the top. Sometimes, the most important growth happens while we’re still on the way up.

Climbing isn’t easy. The air gets thinner, the path feels steep, and there are moments when it would be simpler to turn around and settle back in the valley. But it’s in the climb where strength is built. It’s where we learn to lean on God step by step.

“Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance. Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything.” – James 1:2-4

That verse always stops me in my tracks. Pure joy? In trials? It doesn’t come naturally to think of difficulty as a reason for joy. But the climb is not wasted. Every struggle, every step, every breathless moment is producing something in us that lasts.

Don’t confuse Joy with Happiness either – or at least not the way this world defines happiness.  “The pursuit of happiness is the insatiable attempt to control your circumstances because happiness is dependent on everchanging happenings. Joy is found in the everlasting Jesus.” – Pastor Joby Martin sums this up perfectly.

“But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus.” – Philippians 3:13–14

Joy doesn’t come from pretending the climb isn’t hard. It comes from knowing the climb has a purpose. It comes from remembering that God is shaping us with every uphill push. He is strengthening us, preparing us, and drawing us closer to Him.

And when we learn to find joy in the climb, the mountaintop becomes that much sweeter – not because we escaped the valley, but because we discovered God was with us on the journey.

So if you feel like you’re still climbing, take heart. Don’t give up. There is joy to be found right where you are. Every step matters. Every moment matters. And God is using it all to bring you closer to the person He has called you to be.

Mountain Moments: Gratitude in the Valley

Contentment as Perspective

In my last series, Silent Struggles, we spent time down in the valley – exploring the quiet battles of the mind and heart that so many of us fight every day. Those struggles are real, and they matter. But the story doesn’t end in the valley. God doesn’t leave us there. He lifts our eyes upward.

As I thought about what comes next, one word kept coming to mind: perspective. When you’re in the valley, everything looks big. Problems seem overwhelming. Shadows feel long. But what if the difference between the valley and the mountaintop isn’t just where you’re standing – but how you’re seeing?

Paul wrote about this while sitting in a prison cell. He said, “I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances. I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation… I can do all this through him who gives me strength.” (Philippians 4:11-13). His circumstances didn’t define his perspective. Gratitude and contentment in Christ lifted him higher than any mountain ever could.

Scripture also calls us to something that feels impossible at times: “Rejoice always, pray continually, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.” (1 Thessalonians 5:16-18). Gratitude doesn’t erase our struggles, but it reframes them. It takes our eyes off what we lack and places them on the One who provides. Gratitude turns the valley floor into holy ground, because it reminds us that God is with us – even there.

Contentment is really about trust. Do I trust God to give me what I need today? Do I trust Him to carry me through tomorrow? When I trust, I find peace. When I rest in His goodness, I find contentment. And that perspective begins to change how I see everything. The valley no longer feels like defeat. It becomes part of the climb.

As we move into this new series, Mountain Moments, I want to encourage you: don’t despise the valley. See it as the place where God is teaching you gratitude, growing your faith, and shaping your heart. Those lessons prepare you for the mountaintop.

Contentment and gratitude are the first steps upward. They are the perspective that transforms valleys into victories. So let’s lift our eyes, shift our focus, and start climbing together.

Well Done Good and Faithful Servant

I write this with a heavy heart. It has taken me over a week to be able to find these words. The news of Charlie Kirk’s assassination has left me grieved and angry. It feels wrong. It feels unjust. A voice for truth, a fighter for what he believed was right, was silenced far too soon. I am mourning for Charlie’s wife, his children, his family, his friends, and everyone who loved him. I am mourning for our nation, that we have reached a place where violence like this still happens.

And yet, as I sit with this confusion, I can’t help but think of what Charlie saw the moment he entered heaven. I imagine him hearing the words of Jesus from Matthew 25:23:

“Well done, good and faithful servant. You have been faithful with a few things; I will put you in charge of many things. Come and share your master’s happiness.”

What a moment that must have been – to be embraced by the Savior and welcomed home. Though his life was cut short here, his race was run. His work, his fight, his faithfulness are complete, and he now stands in the presence of the One he lived to glorify.

I confess I do not understand why this happened. I don’t understand why God allowed such evil to strike. But I choose to trust that God sees what I cannot, that His plan is bigger than my understanding, that somehow – even in this tragedy – He is working for good.

“The LORD is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.”  – Psalm 34:18
“Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me.”  –  Psalm 23:4

These verses remind me that we are not alone, even when the darkness seems overwhelming.

My prayer is that this tragedy would not deepen our division but move us toward unity. That instead of letting anger fuel more hate, we would let grief move us to compassion, forgiveness, and love. That we would honor Charlie’s legacy by standing boldly for truth but doing so in a way that reflects the heart of Christ.

Let us pray for Charlie’s family – for supernatural comfort and strength. Let us pray for our nation – that this moment would be a turning point toward peace. And let us pray for our own hearts – that we would not grow bitter but trust God more deeply, remembering that He can bring beauty from ashes.

Charlie’s race is done, but ours is not. May we run it well, so that one day, we too will hear those words: “Well done, good and faithful servant.”

The End of the Series – But Not the End of the Journey

We’ve come to the end of the Silent Struggles series, but not the end of the story – because the silent struggles of men don’t disappear overnight. They’re real. They’re heavy. And they often show up when no one else sees.

But here’s what I hope you’ve discovered: you’re not alone in those battles. You’re not the only one who wonders if he’s enough. Who feels like just a provider. Who gets drained and discouraged and struggles to find real connection. Every man reading this – myself included – has been there. And every one of us needs the same thing: the strength and grace of God to lift what we can’t.

The goal of this series wasn’t to fix everything in eight posts. It was to pull back the curtain on what men carry and point us to the One who carries us. To remind you that you can take off the mask. That your voice matters. That brotherhood is worth fighting for. That your value isn’t in the grind. And that through Christ, you’re not just enough – you’re more than enough.

So where do you go from here? Start small. Take one truth from these posts and live it out this week. Send the post to a friend or family member. Start a conversation with another man. Share what resonated with you. Pray like you’ve never prayed before. Ask God to renew your strength – and then trust that He will.

Because the silent struggles don’t have the final word. God does. And His word says this:

“The Lord is my strength and my shield; in him my heart trusts, and I am helped.”
 – Psalm 28:7

So, trust Him. Lean on Him. And keep walking with courage. Because you were never meant to fight this battle alone – and you never will.

If you missed any of this series here are some quick links to catch you up:

Silent Struggles: More Than Enough

Part 8 of the “What Men Carry and How God Lifts” Series

If you’ve followed this series, you know by now that every struggle we’ve talked about – feeling like you’re not enough, feeling invisible, feeling exhausted and alone – has one thing in common: the weight of expectations.

Expectations from the world. From family. From ourselves.

And if we’re honest, sometimes even from what we think God wants.

But here’s the truth we need to let sink deep into our bones: in Christ, you are more than enough. Not because you’ve got it all together, not because you’re perfect, not because you never fail – but because Jesus finished the work you could never finish. When He said, “It is finished,” on the cross (John 19:30), He was declaring that your worth, your identity, your standing with God were no longer based on your performance.

That means your failures don’t define you. Your job title doesn’t define you. Your bank account doesn’t define you. The size of your house, the success of your kids, the respect you get from others – none of that makes you who you are. You are who God says you are: His son. His masterpiece. His warrior. His beloved.

“No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us.”
 – Romans 8:37

More than conquerors. Not barely scraping by. Not just enough to get through. More than enough – because the power that raised Christ from the dead is alive in you.

That changes everything.

So, take a breath. Release the pressure you’ve been carrying. Let go of the grind for just a moment and let this truth wash over you: you don’t have to prove anything. You don’t have to earn what you already have. You are enough – not because of what you do, but because of what He’s done.

And when you live from that truth, it changes how you lead, how you love, and how you show up in this world. You lead with confidence instead of insecurity. You love with freedom instead of fear. You show up not to prove something, but to give something – the grace, strength, and presence that comes from Christ in you. Brother, the pressure is off. You were never meant to carry it. Walk in the freedom Jesus paid for.

Live like the man God created you to be. Because in Him, you will always be more than enough.

Silent Struggles: Where Are My Brothers?

Part 7 of the “What Men Carry and How God Lifts” Series

No one tells you how lonely manhood can feel. You can be surrounded by people – at work, at home, even at church – and still feel like you’re walking through life on your own. We were made for connection, yet many of us carry the weight of responsibility without the relief of real friendship. Not because we don’t want it, but because somewhere along the way, we stopped knowing how to find it.

Most men crave strong, godly friendships. Someone who gets it. Someone who understands the pressures of leading, providing, and protecting. Someone who can sharpen you and stand with you when life gets heavy. But in a world that celebrates independence, brotherhood often takes a back seat. It feels awkward to admit you need it. So instead of seeking it out, we settle for shallow connections – guys we talk sports with, share a laugh with – but never go deeper. And meanwhile, the battles in our hearts go unspoken.

Scripture reminds us that this isn’t how we were designed to live:

“Iron sharpens iron, and one man sharpens another.”
 – Proverbs 27:17

You were never meant to fight alone. Even Jesus – God in the flesh – chose to walk with a group of men. If He needed community, why would we think we don’t?

So, what do you do when you feel the ache of loneliness and wonder, “Where are my brothers?” You start by praying for them. Ask God to bring men into your life who will challenge you, encourage you, and speak truth when you need it most. Then take a step. Join a men’s group at your church. Say yes to that breakfast invite. Be the one who reaches out first. Brotherhood doesn’t just happen – it’s built through intentionality.

And when you find those men, hold on to them. Pray together. Share the real stuff – the wins and the wounds. Walk through life side by side. Because the battles you face weren’t meant to be fought in isolation. They were meant to be fought shoulder to shoulder with brothers who will remind you who you are and whose you are.

I’ll be honest – this is something I struggle with too. I know the steps to take, I’ve written them out here, but that doesn’t mean they come easy. Reaching out, initiating connection, showing vulnerability – it’s hard. There are days I feel the ache of loneliness deeply, and even though I know what to do, I hesitate. I’m writing this not as someone who’s mastered it, but as someone who’s still learning to take that first step.

Don’t believe the lie that asking for connection makes you weak. It makes you wise. So, take the first step. Because somewhere, there’s another man praying for the same thing you are.

“Two are better than one, because they have a good reward for their toil. For if they fall, one will lift up his fellow. But woe to him who is alone when he falls and has not another to lift him up.”
 –  Ecclesiastes 4:9–10

Silent Struggles: The Mask of Strength

Part 6 of the “What Men Carry and How God Lifts” Series

We live in a world that tells men to be strong. Don’t cry. Don’t complain. Don’t show weakness. And for a lot of us, that message took root early – maybe from a coach, a parent, a boss, or just the culture we grew up in. Over time, it became second nature to put on the mask of strength. To smile when we’re stressed. To say “I’m fine” when we’re anything but. To carry pain quietly because that’s what real men do… right?

The problem is that mask gets heavy. It might protect your image, but it crushes your spirit. You wake up every day putting on the armor of performance and perfection, trying to keep everyone from seeing the cracks. But here’s the truth: pretending you’re okay doesn’t make you strong – it makes you tired.

God never asked you to carry the weight of invincibility. In fact, His Word says the opposite:

“My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.”
 – 2 Corinthians 12:9

That means you don’t have to fake it. You don’t have to keep the mask on for God – He already knows. And the people who love you? They need the real you more than the version that looks unbreakable. Because honesty builds connection. Vulnerability creates trust. And humility invites help when you need it most.

Dropping the mask doesn’t mean you lose respect. It means you gain freedom. It means you stop living under the exhausting pressure of perfection and start living in the peace of God’s grace. It means you trade the lie of “I’ve got this” for the truth of “God’s got me, and that’s enough.”

Philippians 4:13 does not stop at “I can do all things” it is only completed by adding “through Him who gives me strength.”

Fellas, strength isn’t the absence of weakness – it’s the courage to admit you can’t do it all alone. So, talk to God. Tell Him where you’re struggling. Then take the risk of honesty with someone you trust – a brother in Christ, a mentor, a friend. You’ll be surprised how many men are carrying the same weight behind their own masks.

You weren’t made to wear a disguise of toughness. You were made to reflect the strength of Christ – and that begins where your strength ends. So drop the mask. Lean on Him. And let your life be proof that God’s power shines brightest when we stop pretending we’re perfect.

“Finally, be strong in the Lord and in his mighty power” – Ephesians 6:10