I had the privilege of making my first trip to Utah this past weekend with the football team. One of the many perks of the job. 
 

And if there is one thing you should know about me, it's that I love a mountain. 
 

Being from Louisiana and having lived here my entire life, the occasions on which I get to encounter mountains are not nearly as numerous as I would like. So I was downright giddy throughout my entire trip to Ogden and Salt Lake City, getting to spend a day in the western foothills of the Wasatch Range. 
 

I took pictures. A lot of pictures, as one does in these situations, including the one you see here. Somewhere between my attempts to capture the game on the field and trying not to spend three hours simply staring at the landscape, I was given a word that I will attempt to articulate here. 

From a distance, a mountain can be breathtaking. Up close, it can be intimidating. And from the bottom, when you look toward the top, it can be difficult to imagine how you are ever going to get there. 

Life can feel a lot like that too. 

God allows mountains in our lives at different times and for different reasons. Sometimes they come in the form of things we can see. Other times, they are completely invisible to everyone except us. 

Self-doubt. Insecurity. Loneliness. Fear. Depression. Anxiety. Failure. Disappointment. The list goes on. 

I know that I've encountered my fair share of things on that list as I'm sure we all have. And when we're in those moments, facing those mountains, it can be easy to convince ourselves that it is too big to climb. 

But something that I am continuing to learn, and certainly trying to be better with, is the idea that maybe we aren't supposed to climb every mountain alone. 

Climbing a mountain takes preparation. It takes hard work. It takes endurance. It takes patience. It takes determination. And sometimes, it takes someone else grabbing your hand and helping you take the next step. 

It takes a team. People. Friends. Family. Community. 

We are not designed to do life alone. 

Jesus talks about mountains in Matthew 17, telling His disciples that faith as small as a mustard seed can move a mountain. I don't think that means the mountains always disappear. But maybe that faith gives us the courage to climb. To keep climbing. Even when we can't see the top. 
 

Northwestern State football has been facing its own mountains for quite some time. Not just over the past three years. 
 

For years, this program has been trying to climb a mountain that, at times, probably has felt impossibly steep. 
 

And yet, the climb continues. 
 

That is the thing about mountains. You don't conquer them in one giant leap. 
 

You take a step. Then another. Then another. But you keep climbing. 
 

And just as important, you don't climb alone. 
 

There are coaches who pour themselves into their players. Teammates who pick each other up. Families who sacrifice. Fans who continue to show up and support. People behind the scenes who keep pushing even when nobody sees the work. 
 

It takes all of them. Every single one. 
 

I don't know how many more steps Northwestern State football has to take before it reaches the top of its mountain. Maybe nobody does. 
 

But I do know this. You don't conquer a mountain by wishing it wasn't there. Maybe that's what the journey is all about. 
 

The journey that makes us stronger. More patient. More resilient. More appreciative of the people walking beside us, encouraging us, helping us. 
 

That journey, though it be hard. Filled with tears. Filled with setbacks. Filled with frustrations. Filled with moments where giving up would be easy. That journey, when completed, when you're on the other side, gives clarity to all those moments. 
 

And maybe that is the true beauty of mountains, whether they are the ones standing tall above Ogden or the ones standing in the middle of our own lives. 
 

From the bottom, they can make us feel small. But from the top, they can show us just how far we've come.