Day 2 on Kilimanjaro presented challenges I was not mentally or physically prepared for. As the trees began to dwarf in size, the rainforest faded into the distance like stars in the early morning sky. We were entering the moorlands. The sun became an unwanted companion, blistering the skin with each passing minute. Steep hills and large rocks to climb over came between me and my next sleep. After about a third of the hike, I had nothing left. I was physically, emotionally, mentally, and spiritually depleted. I sat on a rock and cried for what felt like an eternity. I began praying, well, more complaining to God. What had I gotten myself into? I thought I was here for a purpose, but why not tell me?

At that moment, I heard a subtle whisper, so clear and distinct, specifically for me.

“Emma, I’m going to break you.”

He let me sit in that moment and wrestle with the idea of more pain before I heard again,

“I’m going to break your will, but I promise to renew your spirit.”

As we continued to walk, and as I dwelled on these words, my daypack was almost forcibly removed from my back. I was tired, but I didn’t want to ask for help. My guide saw that and insisted on helping me.

Lesson #1 – learn to receive support from others. As the day continued, I was physically depleted but slowly, gently, almost unnoticeably, spiritually filled.

“Blessed are the poor in spirit, for the Kingdom of God is yours.” Matthew 5:3

This verse took on a new meaning as I continued dragging my feet along the path. I had nothing, but Jesus continuously reminded me that he is my everything.

Finally, after climbing 3 or 4 mini mountains, we had our first view of camp. Seeing the little orange and green tents speckle the horizon was such a relief, and it meant we had finally made it to a well-deserved break and bowl of vegetable soup! There was nothing extraordinary about the soup we were served at dinner, but I found myself craving it throughout the day. Each night it was a different soup – carrot, potato, onion, leek, celery – and each night it tasted the same. It became a reward for every new goal I set – if I make it to camp, I get soup!

Unfortunately, I tasted the soup twice this day. A mixture of overexertion from a challenging climb and possibly a little bit of corn caused my stomach to revolt in the night. I woke up around midnight and barely made it out of my tent before “tossing my cookies,” to put it politely. That night, I learned how grateful I am for friends who will join you in your mess, hold your hair, and remind you of truths found in scripture. My friend Kayla did just that. She sat with me and played worship music on her phone until I was calm enough to go back to sleep. While I would not want to relive this moment, I’m thankful God uses any situation to remind me of his nearness and the strength of community.

I was going to need that reminder in the days to come.

To Be Continued…

This is a story of failure, a story of brokenness, and a story of God’s grace.

This is the story of a mountain.

July 2023, I and eight friends took seven days to climb Mt. Kilimanjaro in eastern Tanzania. On day one of the hike, I was more than ready to give up. We arrived at Machame Gate around nine in the morning. Thick fog and light rain created an ominous atmosphere as we anticipated our ascent. Marvin Gaye and Tammi Terrell serenaded us with Ain’t No Mountain High Enough as we sat in the welcome area, eating a box breakfast and waiting to complete our registration forms. We waited for nearly three hours. With each passing minute, the butterflies in my stomach grew more assertive. We hadn’t even started, and I was already asking myself, “What in the world have I gotten myself into?”

At the entrance gate, we filed single file through a security checkpoint. Two metal detectors and a baggage check stood between us and the mountain. Our team of nine Americans gathered with the four guides, three cooks, and countless porters for a brief orientation. After scanning passports, signing guestbooks, and hearing the mountain rules, we began our climb.

The first hour consisted of cement paths, Bluetooth speakers blaring every song ever written about a mountain, and so much rain. The water falling from the sky was more of a sputtering than a downpour, as the low clouds created walls of water we consistently walked through.

The rainforest was filled with divine beauty unlike anything I had seen before, but my eyes were fixated on the shoes before me as I focused on taking each new step uphill. Exhausted and out of breath from this first (8-mile) hike, I didn’t know how to manage six more days like this. One team member was sick, and I thought, this is my out. If they must go back down, I will volunteer as tribute to ensure they get to the bottom safely.

I wished failure on someone else, so I didn’t have to keep doing something hard for myself. Fortunately, that team member woke up fine the next day. While I would like to say this news made me happy, I was angry as it meant I had to continue climbing. This sudden emotion surprised me, as it was the furthest from a righteous anger. I would feel very convicted about this later in the hike.

One day in, and I already felt broken beyond repair. Feeling pushed far beyond my limits, I would soon learn how much further I could go if I made myself willing to listen. This was only the start of a journey that God intended to use to change me and prepare me for all He had in store.

To Be Continued…