All I knew was: I had to survive two mountains, keep a bunch of energetic Pathfinders alive and not get us lost. What I didn’t know was that God had secretly scheduled a full emotional rebranding for me somewhere between the base of Mt Trio and the summit of Mt Toolbrunup.
Lets start with Mt Trio.
Mt Trio started humbly enough. The kids were super hyped and energetic, I was feeling semi-responsible, thinking to myself “wow, leadership is a blessing”. The first incline came along and to my surprise, the kids practically danced through it, I was impressed. However, the higher we climbed, the less the chatter they became and soon after that it was dead silent – Just the sound of footsteps, heavy breathing and regret.
Then it began:
“Why is this mountain still going?”
“I can’t do this anymore.”
“I give up. Just leave me here. Tell my mum I tried.”
My go-to response?
“Just five more minutes. I promise.”
Spoiler: It was never fiver minutes.
I don’t think I lied, exactly. I was just hoping really really really hard. “Five more minutes” became our running joke…..or trauma, depending who you ask.
And then there was that moment, a younger kid was struggling big time. Eyes full of doubt, legs wobbling, spirit hanging by a thread. I panicked and said “Don’t worry, lets keep going – there’s a helicopter waiting at the top.”
He paused. “For real?”
I said, “Absolutely.”
Did I believe it? Not even for a second. But when you’re a youth leader and faith runs low, your only tools are prayer, imagination and improvisation and it worked because it gave the kid a full boost of energy.
However somewhere between dragging myself and half these kids up the incline, God spoke to me and said:
“You do this with your own life too, huh?”
The audacity. I thought excuse me???
And then it hit me.
God was doing something here. Because as we walked, I could feel Him gently pressing in my mind on stuff I hadn’t realise I had brought up on the mountain – habits that I have been holding onto, the friendships that I’ve been forcing to work by giving it another “five more minutes” when they have already expired or the weight of feeling like I had to hold it all together for everyone else.
The hike wasn’t just testing my leadership, it was exposing my heart.
Then came Mt Toolbrunup – aka Mt. Trio’s older and meaner cousin.
Toolbrunup was rockier, steeper and harsher. The kind of climb that humbles you real quick. The kids had officially lost trust in me by this point. Every time I said “almost there”, I was greeted with a killer side eye like I had betrayed their bloodline.
At one point I was carrying multiple bags, hyping the kids up with zero energy left in my own tank and quietly whispering “God, come get your children…and me too.” I was physically, emotionally and spiritually on low battery.
But somewhere in that ridiculous, messy and beautiful chaos, God met me again. Not in a thunderbolt or a booming voice but in the stillness of walking beside people who are frustrated, tired and still choosing to keep going. It was in that moment that I realised what real leadership is about.
I learnt that leadership is not always knowing what to say, or saying “five more minutes” at the right time. Sometimes, its just being there walking with somewhere who’s struggling even while you’re struggling too.
God didn’t use me because I was qualified or spiritual. He used me how I was – tired, doubting and very much “winging” it. And through it all, He redefined my view of ministry, connections and how His strength is made perfect in weakness.
At the summit of Toolbrunup, after the tantrums, fake negotiations to get them moving and someone asking if it was possible to get an Uber from the top back to base camp, one of them looked around and said “This was actually worth it, I’m glad I made it.”
I felt that deeply.
Because same.
This expedition wasn’t just a camp. It was a mirror that God had used not only to show these kids their resilience but also to redefine me. He pulled back layers I didn’t know I was carrying and He reminded me that being a leader doesn’t mean being perfect but to be willing – willing to walk, fall and trust again (even after those “5 more minutes” moments).
I came in thinking I was there to help guide a few kids up a mountain but turns out God was using those mountains to guide me away from expectations that I had chained myself to and outing me towards a version of me that is more grounded in grace.
So yeah, I might’ve lost all credibility on the timing front and probably owe some kids an apology for the non-existent helicopter. But what I gained?
I’ve gained the realisation that five more minutes can be the space where growth happens, faith deepens and God gently redefines who you are.