Mt Sinai Reflections

The morning after our grueling Mt. Sinai trek, Ate Cathy, whom I sat beside at breakfast, asked if I could share my thoughts about the climb with the group. I gave a noncommittal answer, even though I’d already begun organizing my reflections the moment we started our descent.

The moment passed. Ate Cathy may have taken my nonchalance as a no. But the climb still lingers in my heart, and I want to write it down before the details fade. That morning on the mountain shifted something in me.

What I took away from Mt. Sinai falls under two themes: rediscovery and realization.

Rediscovery

I used to tag along with friends on their mountain-climbing adventures. But I’m smol and weak AF—my short limbs often couldn’t reach natural footholds or grips, especially on steeper terrain. I relied on fellow climbers for a boost and a helping hand. But every summit was worth the shortness of breath and aching back.

It has been at least five years since I’ve done any serious climbing. There are no real mountains in Singapore, and none of my recent overseas trips included treks in the itinerary (I’d love to try climbing Mt. Fuji one day.)

Through the Mt. Sinai climb, I rediscovered how much I miss trekking. Most of the friends who once convinced me to trade the comforts of bed on early weekend mornings for sore muscles have since relocated abroad, just like I have. Whenever I return to the Philippines, I think about hiking again—but there’s no one I could dupe into coming with me.

Beauty of Nature

The beauty of nature surrounded us during the climb. Jump-off at 3 a.m. meant we were walking under a canopy of stars. Such a sight is missed in the city; in Singapore, the night is never pitch black. Even without being a huge astronomy nerd—though I did write “astronomer” as my ambition in my grade school yearbook—one couldn’t help but be enchanted by the sight of the Milky Way twinkling.

I love climbing the lush and verdant Philippine mountains. They provide shade when the sun hangs high, and the view of rolling green hills is refreshing after a sweaty ascent. Mt. Sinai, on the other hand, is dry, barren, ancient. The rocks seem carved by time itself. It felt like walking through the pages of Genesis. Strange, sacred, and beautiful in a way I didn’t expect. (I may have shed a tear while climbing the last of the 750 steps to the summit— from the beauty! Not from exhaustion.)

Thankfully, despite the lack of tree cover, the air was cool enough that we didn’t need shade during the climb.

Kindness of Strangers

I had also forgotten the warmth of strangers on a climb. Even half-asleep, complete strangers smiled and called out encouragement as we passed each other. “You’re almost there!” “Just a little more!” The shared struggle and the fresh air lowers people’s walls and makes kindness feel like instinct instead of effort.

What a world it would be if we treated each other as if we’re on a climb—if we gave kindness as freely.

God’s Promise

While I wanted to walk ahead and lose myself in the rhythm of the trail, I made sure to keep the back markers within view. I was usually in the quiet space between groups. That gave me time to breathe, reflect, and marvel at the moment.

As I neared the summit, I listened to the day’s gospel, saved on my phone:

“Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. Not as the world gives do I give it to you. Do not let your hearts be troubled or afraid.” (John 14:27)

Cue tears, again.

At the time, I had been unemployed for over a month and was growing restless. The job market felt cold, and my prospects even colder. But in that moment, on that mountain, I felt the peace that verse promised—a stillness deeper than the landscape. He will reveal His plans in His perfect time, and in ways more beautiful than we could imagine.

Realizations

One thing I recognized about myself: I was ok with helping people stay calm when things get chaotic. It’s not loud or flashy, but it matters.

At the very start of the climb—2AM Sinai time (8AM Singapore)—I was on a call troubleshooting Feast Suntec’s production setup. Though most of my role was encouraging the team back in Singapore not to panic and to stay focused on solving the issue.

Again later that day, near the end of the descent, us back markers started to doubt our direction. The trail looked completely different in daylight. What had been invisible in the dark now looked unfamiliar in the sun. No one could remember which forks we took earlier.

So I walked ahead to test the paths. I was lightest on my feet and most confident in my steps. It felt like a small contribution and I have zero doubt we would’ve found our way eventually—but I hoped it helped ground the group.

After so many rejections and mounting self-doubt from job hunting, this felt like a small revelation. On that mountain, I saw a quiet strength and confidence in myself.

And Now?

I didn’t come down from Mt. Sinai with a job offer or a five-step plan for my future. But I did come down feeling lighter and braver. And I was reminded that peace isn’t found in certainty—it’s found in trust.

I still don’t know what’s next. But I believe God is already walking ahead—testing the paths, making a way.

I just have to live life one step at a time. One day at a time.

(After all, no one could’ve predicted I would climb Mt. Sinai. Yet I was brought there. What a miracle.)