Rain. Again. The day is overcast and bleak. It is supposed to be the drier season. I’m ready for some mudless days; sunshiny days; days when it’s easier to get around to visit people and to get up to the school and clinic. Days when mud isn’t being tracked up onto the porch; days when the rats and ants have somewhere better to be than in my house; days and nights when the roof isn’t leaking and we can patch up the holes; days when people are out and about more; days when the sun will power our solar cells and let us use the computer (printing and email projects are piling up). Even though the weather is bleak, I know that past these clouds is sunshine, and God’s loving care pierces even the darkest clouds.

Two days ago, I was hiking into the mountains with our entire staff and some carriers. We were quite a crowd spread out along the trail, each going at their own pace. Four men were carrying a 116 lb. oxygen tank on a bamboo pole. Several guys were carrying large, bulky backpacks full of things various staff members had taken on the previous weekend getaway. I teased one of our Filipino teachers that he looked like Santa Claus piled high with bags. Various female staff, out to prove something to themselves, were breaking personal load records. I commended them for their efforts. After all these years, my goal is just to finish the hike without a migraine.

During our prolonged trek, I had the opportunity to observe several people on the trail, learn something about their personalities, and note some parallels to the Christian life. Several of the women were carrying large backpacks with recently received packages from home balanced on top. They were also determined to hike this steep, muddy trail in flip-flops like many Palawanos wear. I personally hate wearing them on the trail because I simply cannot keep them on my feet. Trekking along in my soccer cleats, I felt sorry for the flip-flop wearers. It may seem excessive, but I have found that bringing three different pairs of shoes for the trail lets me have appropriate footwear for all types of terrain, and it has saved me many torn knee ligaments. Nevertheless, I was impressed with the young ladies’ tenacity and the fact that they never complained. Actually, they seemed always to be looking for ways to ease the way for a fellow companion. They were a community.

The men carrying the oxygen tank had the toughest time. They did it with their eye on the goal of providing life-saving oxygen to our clinic patients. About once a month, someone depends on oxygen to get them through the night until they can recover or be transported to the lowland hospital.

Longtime readers know that the word “trail” is a euphemism for the treacherous passage from the lowlands to our Kemantian home. Sometimes when the ground isn’t too wet, it is actually fun to hike. In earlier days, I used to run parts of it. But recently a powerful typhoon passed through the Philippines, and we got hit harder than usual. The terrific winds did significant damage to our teacher’s house across the river, and several of our faithful staff went over to re-roof it in the driving rain. The rains continued after the typhoon passed. The trail was scarred with recent landslides, and parts were still unstable. A week ago, a recently arrived staff member stepped too close the edge of the trail. The soil gave way, and she tumbled down about 15 feet, injuring her ankle.

As I was walking along behind the men (with the selfish intent of having help over an approaching section of near-vertical rock) I had the opportunity to see Christianity in action. These guys were putting everything into staying on the trail and balancing the awkward bamboo pole laden with the oxygen tank. Two would carry until their strength gave out, and the other two were right there to step in and take over. They were cheerful and even laughed at their mishaps. At one point, I heard yells and a crash up ahead. I saw Timuk, one of our high-school students, way down the mountainside, clawing his way back up. Elias, who had been ahead of him on the trail, was down the mountainside a few meters. The oxygen tank (providentially!) was balanced where it had snagged on a small tree. But these guys weren’t complaining, they were laughing.

I couldn’t help but contrast these observations with times in our Christian walk when we complain when the going gets tough. Someone messes up and loses it, and we are tempted to leave them to struggle on as best they can. It is easy to forget that we are a community, and helping others helps us, too. We often say, “The task is too big for me to do. Surely the Lord has someone else in mind,” when what He wants is for us is to band together and, hand in hand, lay hold of His power to keep working for eternal results.

Once I got past the difficult section of rock, I was able to pass the slower-going oxygen carriers. Dyuni, another of our high-school students, came along behind me carrying a rattan backpack loaded with donated school supplies. It was dark and rainy, and we were getting cold, so I picked up the pace. Fearing Dyuni might drop behind as I eagerly pushed toward home to get some food ready for the girls when they arrived, I asked him if he had a light. He answered that he did, so I hurried on with my light and soon left him behind. However, when I arrived at the school and looked back up the mountainside, I didn’t see Dyuni’s light. When Dyuni finally emerged out of the pitch blackness, I asked him about his light. He explained that he owned a light, but he hadn’t brought it. He was very gentlemanly about it, but I felt like a heel. This was a good reminder to me that, spiritually speaking, it is important to slow down and make sure others have a firm hold on the Light before leaving them to their own devices.

I’m grateful to the Lord for the team He has given us this year and for the united strength they bring. I’m thankful for the lessons I learned on a very difficult trek, and that everyone arrived safely with no major injuries.

• Twitter