How the Wilderness Forms Men of God
The gravel shifted under our boots as Trey and I climbed the last stretch toward the ridge. The trail had looked simple from the parking lot, but that final incline exposed everybody, including me.
A few steps behind me, Trey stopped. I heard his breathing before I turned around, shallow and fast, the kind a boy tries to hide because he does not want anyone to know he is struggling.
He bent over with his hands on his knees and stared at the ground like the rocks had done him wrong. I did not say anything at first, because attention can feel like exposure, and exposure can feel like danger.
After a minute, Trey muttered, “I don’t think I’m cut out for this.” He said it like a fact, as if the climb had revealed something settled and final about him.
I walked back down a few steps and stood beside him, not above him. “Yeah,” I said. “It can feel like that sometimes.”
Trey looked up, confused. I think he expected me to correct him, motivate him, or tell him to quit complaining.
Then I added, “Feeling like you’re not cut out for it does not mean you are not. It may mean you are doing something new, and new things can make us feel small.”
He looked back at the trail. He did not smile, and he did not give me a speech about trying again. He just took one deeper breath, straightened his backpack, and started walking.
That moment was never really about the mountain. The harder climb was the story Trey believed about himself.
Boys Say Their Beliefs Out Loud
I have learned to listen carefully when a boy says something about himself in a hard moment. “I’m bad at this.” “I always mess up.” “I’m not smart.” “Nobody expects me to finish anyway.” Those sentences can sound like frustration, but many times they reveal a belief that has been forming for years.
The challenge in mentoring is that we are tempted to answer the surface statement. A boy says he is tired, so we push. A boy says he is bored, so we entertain. A boy says he is no good at something, so we encourage.
Encouragement has value, but quick encouragement can miss the deeper wound. If Trey believed he was incapable, one upbeat sentence would not reach far enough. He needed an experience that challenged the old story without shaming him for having it.
When a mentor only responds to the moment, the old belief keeps its place. The same sentence will return later in school, sports, work, friendships, and faith. Behavior repeats when belief remains untouched.
The Trail Reveals What the Classroom Hides
Unfamiliar situations pull hidden beliefs into the open. A hike, a repair project, a new sport, a hard conversation, or a first job can show us what a young person believes about himself.
Many boys from hard places have learned to avoid exposure. If they do not know how to do something, they may act like they do not care. If a task feels difficult, they may joke, quit, get angry, or distract everyone else before anyone notices they feel unsure.
That reaction can look like laziness. Often, it is protection.
Trey had learned that trying and failing felt dangerous. Somewhere along the way, he had decided that stepping into something new meant risking embarrassment. So his body found ways to stay safe: slow down, make a joke, call the thing stupid, or quit before the thing quits on you.
Most boys are not avoiding effort as much as they are avoiding exposure. That has changed the way I respond. Instead of asking, “How do I make him try harder?” I ask, “What might he be protecting right now?” That question slows me down and helps me see the boy instead of only seeing the behavior.
Stand Beside Him, Not Over Him
There is a big difference between calling a boy up from a distance and walking beside him while he learns. Boys can hear the difference in our voice and feel it in our posture.
If I had stood at the top of the trail and yelled, “Come on, Trey, you’ve got this,” my words might have sounded encouraging. But they also might have reinforced the distance between where I was and where he felt stuck.
So I walked back down and stood beside him. That movement told him, “You are not alone down here,” and it showed him that needing a minute did not remove him from the relationship.
Shared challenge creates a kind of trust that talking alone rarely creates. When I am sweating too, breathing hard too, and figuring things out too, the mentoring relationship feels less like a lecture and more like discipleship.
We are walking together, learning together, and paying attention to what God reveals along the way. That is often where boys open up: side by side, moving, trying, and breathing.
Difficulty Can Become a Mirror
That climb showed Trey something about the story he carried, but it also showed me something about my role. I am there to help reshape the story a boy believes about himself.
That happens when a boy faces something difficult and realizes he can stay in it longer than he thought. It happens when a mentor names the struggle without agreeing with the lie.
There is a difference between validating feelings and affirming false conclusions. Trey felt overwhelmed, and that was real. Trey concluded he was not cut out for it, and that was not true.
A mentor must learn to hold both with care. When we dismiss the feeling, the boy may feel unseen. When we affirm the false conclusion, the boy stays trapped.
The better path is honest presence. I can say, “I get why this feels hard, and I am staying with you while you keep going.”
The Next Step Matters More Than the Whole Mountain
When Trey stood back up, I did not tell him to look at the summit. I told him to look at the next bend in the trail.
Sometimes the full picture overwhelms a young person. Graduation, healing, leadership, faith, responsibility, and future goals can all feel too big. But the next step often feels possible.
We walked to the next bend, then to a flat place with a cedar tree, then to a rock that looked like a seat. Trey did not need to conquer the entire mountain in his mind. He needed to learn that he could take the next faithful step while feeling unsure.
That lesson reaches far beyond hiking. A boy who struggles in school may not believe he can become a strong student, but he may be able to finish one assignment. A boy who avoids hard conversations may not know how to repair a relationship, but he may be able to send one honest text.
Mentors help large growth become reachable through small acts of faithfulness. We make the next step visible when the whole future feels too heavy to carry.
What Boys Learn From Our Pace
I have had to learn that my urgency can make a boy feel rushed, even when my motives are good. I want growth. I want progress. I want the young person to see what I see.
But boys rarely rewrite old beliefs at my preferred speed. Trey needed space to catch his breath. He needed me to stay with him, not drag him forward.
If I moved too fast, he might have finished the hike while still believing the same thing about himself. He would have performed better on the outside while remaining unchanged on the inside.
The pace matters because the goal is deeper than completion. I want him to experience belonging before performance, and I want him to learn that struggle can be part of growth.
That kind of growth takes time. It asks mentors to be patient enough to value what is forming beneath the surface.
Practical Ways to Walk Through Challenge
Choose shared challenges with care
Pick activities that require effort but do not crush him. A hike, a project, a workout, a meal he helps cook, or a new skill can create space for courage.
Listen for identity statements
Pay attention when a boy says, “I can’t,” “I’m not that kind of person,” or “I always mess this up.” Those sentences may reveal the story he believes.
Validate the feeling without agreeing with the lie
Say, “Yes, this feels hard,” while also saying, “That does not mean you cannot grow.” This keeps the relationship honest and hopeful.
Move beside him physically when possible
Side-by-side settings often lower pressure. Walk, drive, work, build, or practice together, because many boys speak more freely without constant eye contact.
Let him see you learning too
Admit when you do not know something. Acknowledge mistakes. Try new things with him. This teaches that struggle does not equal failure.
The Ridge Was Quieter Than I Expected
When we finally reached the ridge, Trey did not celebrate. He stood with his hands on his hips and looked out over the trees. The wind was stronger there, and neither of us talked for a minute.
Then he said, “That was harder than I thought.” I said, “Yeah. And you finished.”
He nodded once, still looking out at the view. That was all the conversation needed.
I have learned that boys often process meaning slowly. If I rush to explain the lesson, I may steal the quiet work God is doing inside him. So I let the moment sit.
Later, on the drive home, Trey said, “I thought about quitting back there.” I told him I knew. Then he said, “I didn’t though.”
That sentence mattered. It was small, but it was a crack in the old story. Trey had done something he did not think he could do, with someone beside him who did not shame him for struggling.
That is holy ground in mentoring, and it usually comes quieter than I expect. I do not want to miss it because I am rushing to teach.
The Story Beneath the Step
When I think about Trey on that trail, I remember the exact place where he stopped. I remember his breathing, the gravel, the wind, and the way he said he was not cut out for it.
I also remember watching him keep walking, which is the part I return to most. That one image helps me stay patient.
Mentoring gives us the chance to enter those moments with patience and care. A boy may think he is talking about a trail, a school project, a sport, or a new responsibility. Often, he is revealing the story he believes about himself.
Our role is to listen for that story and respond with truth. We do not need to give a speech every time a boy struggles. We need to stay close, speak honestly, and help him take the next step.
Over time, those shared steps begin to rewrite what he believes is possible. That is the kind of mentoring that lasts, steady presence over time helping a boy see struggle, growth, and God’s nearness in a new way.
Discussion Questions
What identity statement have you heard from your mentee that may reveal a deeper belief about himself?
Where could you create a shared challenge that gives your mentee a safe place to practice courage?
How can you validate your mentee’s feelings without affirming a false conclusion about who he is?
