Ecclesiastes 4:9-10 (NIV): “Two are better than one, because they have a good return for their labor: If either of them falls down, one can help the other up. But pity anyone who falls and has no one to help them up”.

I’ve never been what you’d call a daring mountaineer, but if you pointed me toward a half a mile long trail with a 10 percent grade, I could usually scramble up the rocks and roots to the top like a mountain goat. At least, I used to.

What a change it was on a recent hike. It happened at Camp Shiloh in West Milford, NJ, where I joined a bunch of guys from my men’s group for a hilltop climb. The trail itself wasn’t Everest—but soon into the ascent, I realized my nimbleness over rocks and brambles had sharply decreased.

This is the mountain. These two guys are far  ahead  of Fred and me

I needed a helping hand. More specifically, I needed Fred—a man whose background is quite different from mine—to literally grab my arm before I took an unplanned tumble onto the rocks. In Christ, our differences are minimized; out there on the hillside, they vanished altogether in the urgency of keeping me upright.

This wasn’t easy to admit. I’ve always liked to manage things on my own whenever possible. But that morning forced me to face reality: even a trail that once felt easy can become a challenge over time. Once upon a time, I could run a decent marathon or tackle a ten‑mile race without a second thought. Watching my running prowess fade has been, in a word, disappointing—but I’m thankful I never built my entire identity around being competitive in road races.

The hike, surprisingly, became a living lesson in grace. I was reminded of the old song, “He ain’t heavy, he’s my brother.” That captures part of what I experienced—but not the whole story. Because it wasn’t just about man‑to‑man fellowship: behind Fred’s steady hand, I could see the quiet help of Christ and the Holy Spirit. That’s grace at work—helping us through decline, weakness, and stubborn independence.

So yes, my days of leaping over rocks like a mountain goat may be over—but how wonderful it is to grow in a grace that surpasses physical prowess and agility. We like to give brotherly hugs in our group – and  now a hug with Fred reminds me of the care of one brother who prevented another from tumbling down a mountain.

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