The Write Zone

Currently I’m in Belize with my church, and we were asked to write a devotional to share with our group. Here is what I wrote, and thought I would share with you for some encouragement.

Mountain climbing is not my preferred sport (sorry Mom), but when Jesus calls us to climb, we can trust His reasons.

Everyone has mountains they climb in life, whether they are mental, physical, or spiritual. Some mountains are obvious, like sickness, grief, or loss. But others are quieter: anxiety that won’t leave, doubt that creeps into our thoughts, or a calling from God that feels way too big for who we think we are. And sometimes, reaching the peak of that mountain looks and feels impossible and tiring before we know what the payoff is. 

Mountains don’t always announce themselves as mountains. Sometimes they show up slowly, day after day, and we don’t realize how steep the climb has become until we’re already exhausted. And often, when we’re in the middle of it, all we can see is what’s directly in front of us: another step, another obstacle, another reason to wonder if it’s worth continuing.

I remember when I went to my first Kidder Creek camp, right as I was entering high school. One morning it was announced that we were going on a hike. I’m not a huge hiker, which basically means my definition of climbing is getting down from my loft bed before noon. But my friends and I piled into a van with the freshmen boys and our leaders, and we followed one of our camp counselors down a long, winding dirt road.

After what felt like an eternity of driving, the van finally stopped. We got out, stretched our legs, and that’s when I realized I had no idea how this hike was going to go. No map, no description, just a vague sense of here we go. (Also, our counselor hadn’t gone on this particular hike before so she didn’t know how it was either) And I was a little nervous about exactly how this hike was going to play out– especially if it involved cliffs and wild freshman boys. 

That fear was justified, for the record.

The trail went straight uphill for two miles. No scenic view either– looking at sweaty backs of t-shirts isn’t exactly beautiful. On top of that, there was no breeze and just dense pine trees and rocks to see from left to right. It was long, tiring, and repetitive, the only thing keeping it interesting being the boys nearly falling off the edge several times. An hour in, I was thinking, “Who in their right mind would choose to do this as a Saturday activity?” There was nothing about it that felt worth it in the moment.

But then, without warning, we broke out of the trees. 

Suddenly, everything opened up. We were standing on a hill covered in vibrant green grass, dotted with tiny wildflowers. The mountains in front of us were capped with pure white snow. Behind it stretched a bright blue sky, and below us sat a lake tucked perfectly into a valley, surrounded by tall pine trees. It looked unreal, like a painting you’d expect to see on a postcard, not something you’d stumble into after sweating uphill for an hour.

In that moment, the climb made sense. The exhaustion didn’t magically disappear, but it wasn’t taking all of our attention now. We swam in the lake, laughed, rested, and soaked it all in. And somehow, the hike back down felt easier– not because the trail changed, but because we were all in higher spirits.

That experience stuck with me, because it mirrors something I’ve noticed about faith: the view rarely comes before the climb.

In a similar way, Jesus’ disciples were told to climb a mountain. One they didn’t choose and didn’t scout out ahead of time. Matthew 28:16–20 says:

“Then the eleven disciples went to Galilee, to the mountain where Jesus had told them to go. When they saw him, they worshiped him; but some doubted. Then Jesus came to them and said, ‘All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Therefore go and make disciples of all nations… And surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age.’”

We often read this passage for what Jesus said, but I think we miss something important about what happened before He said it.

The disciples had to go to the mountain first.

They weren’t told what would happen there. They weren’t promised comfort or clarity along the way. They were simply told where to go, and they obeyed. Only after they climbed did they see the risen Jesus standing before them in full authority.

And it’s there, on the mountain, that Jesus gives them one of the biggest callings in all of Scripture: “Go and make disciples.”

That command is not random, and it’s not accidental. Jesus doesn’t give it while they’re sitting comfortably. He gives it after obedience, after effort, after the climb. And He gives it knowing exactly who He’s speaking to: people who are tired, unsure, and still carrying doubt.

What’s easy to miss is that “go and make disciples” isn’t just about movement— it’s about trust. Jesus is asking them to step into something far bigger than themselves. To leave the mountain and re-enter a broken world. To speak about what they’ve seen, even when they don’t fully understand it yet. In other words, He’s asking them to keep climbing, just in a different direction.

There’s one line in Jesus’s words on that mountain that changes everything: “All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me.”

That statement comes before the command. Before “go.” Before the responsibility. Before the weight of what He’s asking them to do. Jesus doesn’t start with what they must accomplish: He starts with who He is.

When Jesus says He has all authority, He’s not just claiming power; He’s declaring that nothing the disciples are about to face exists outside His control. Every city they’ll enter, every rejection they’ll experience, every fear that will rise up. None of it outranks Him. The mountain didn’t intimidate Jesus, and the world ahead doesn’t either.

Jesus claims all authority in heaven and on earth—over the seen and unseen, over outcomes and obstacles, over success and suffering. The climb isn’t powered by the disciples’ strength, but rather its anchored in Him.

That means when Jesus sends them out, He’s not saying, “You better create results out there”. He’s asking them to trust His authority enough to obey. Their job isn’t to control the mountain, it’s to keep taking the next step under the One who already reigns over it.

If we look at Acts, we see that Jesus doesn’t just want us to jump into everything headfirst- there is a time to wait. In verse Acts 1:4, it says, “And while staying, he ordered them not to depart from Jerusalem, but to wait for the promise of the Father, which, he said, ‘You have heard from me’”

He wanted the disciples to fulfill the work he gave them, but he also wanted them to be patient. Sometimes there are times to wait, just listening for God’s word. Looking back to that hike I did, when we reached the top we didn’t just turn around and go back but rather rested, waiting for the counselor to tell us when it was time to depart.

Waiting can be good, and give us a time to rest and prepare for what is next. We stayed on top of the mountain on that hike, giving ourselves time to soak in the hard work we had already gone through, but also to brace ourselves for the descent.

When God calls us to climb, He’s not overlooking our weakness. He’s reminding us that the climb is held by His authority, not our ability. The mountain may feel overwhelming to us, but it’s already under His feet.

And that’s why the command to go is followed by a promise to stay: “Surely I am with you always.” We don’t climb to earn Jesus’ power; we climb because His power is already at work.

Another line that stands out is this: “When they saw him, they worshiped him; but some doubted.” Even at the top of the mountain. Even face to face with the risen Jesus. Doubt was still present.

And yet, Jesus didn’t rebuke them for it. He didn’t delay His mission until their faith was perfect. He met them right where they were—tired, unsure, carrying both worship and doubt—and entrusted them with changing the world. With spreading the Gospel.

And to me, that’s always been incredibly comforting.

I often think that faith means having no questions, no hesitation, no fear. Just going right into everything God asks us to do boldly. But Scripture shows us that Jesus works with imperfect climbers. He doesn’t wait for us to feel ready: He asks us to be willing.

We know that God can move mountains. Matthew 17:20 tells us that with faith as small as a mustard seed, mountains can be moved. But sometimes, instead of removing the mountain, Jesus invites us to climb it.

But why does he want us to do that? Why do we have to go over these mountains in our life?

The short answer is this: because climbing changes us.

If God removed every obstacle immediately, we’d never develop endurance, trust, or depth. The climb teaches us to rely on Him step by step, even when the path feels boring, painful, or directionless. Sometimes all we see are trees and dirt, and we wonder if we missed a turn somewhere. But Jesus sees the summit long before we do.

And here’s the hard truth: we want the view before the obedience.

But Jesus often works the other way around. 

He says, “Follow me.”
He says, “Go to the mountain.”
He says, “Take the next step.”

And only after we commit to the climb does he reveal the view.

So how do we make disciples?

Leading others to Christ isn’t the only thing being asked here. Yes, Jesus wants us to help convert unbelievers, but he also wants us to stick by them as they figure out their faith.

If you led someone to the Lord, then abandoned them, they would be stuck with questions and maybe even, in their confusion, fall away from Jesus. Staying in contact, answering questions to the best of your ability, and just praying for them and with them could lead them deeper into their faith.

The other big aspect of making a disciple is teaching them how to make disciples themselves. Show them as much as you can how to follow God’s command and go into the world themselves, helping others down the path that leads to life. And if you are confused, questioning aspects on how to do this or how to lead the new believers deeper into faith, turn not only to your pastors and people who led you to Christ, but remember the best teacher is God himself. Read his word, and pray that he will give you guidance and help you climb this important mountain. 

Maybe your climb right now looks like staying faithful when prayers feel unanswered. Maybe it’s choosing obedience when the world tells you it’s unnecessary. Maybe it’s continuing to trust God when your faith feels small and shaky. Or maybe it’s stepping into a calling that feels far beyond your ability.

If that’s you, in any way or form, know this: The presence of struggle doesn’t mean the absence of God. The disciples didn’t climb alone, and neither do you.

Jesus doesn’t just meet us at the top. He walks with us on the trail. And even when doubt shows up, He still calls us, leads us, and promises, “And surely, I am with you always, to the end of the age.”

And one day, you may look back and realize that the mountain you wanted removed became the place where your faith was strengthened, your trust was deepened, and your understanding of Jesus grew clearer than ever before.

The view may not be visible yet. But it’s coming. 

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