I used to think mentorship was something you graduated out of. You spend your twenties and early thirties collecting guidance — from parents, from professors, from the older guy at church who always seemed to have the right word at the right time — and then, somewhere around forty, you’re supposed to become the mentor. The one giving the advice, not needing it.
I’m nearly forty now. And I need mentors more than ever.
Maturity Was Never the Finish Line
Somewhere along the way I picked up a quiet, unspoken belief: that maturity means self-sufficiency. That a man who has built a career, run businesses, raised a family, and taught for over a decade should have most of the answers by now. Needing someone else’s counsel started to feel like an admission that I hadn’t arrived yet.
But that’s not what maturity is. Maturity isn’t the absence of needing guidance — it’s the humility to keep recognizing it. The wisest people I know, the ones furthest along in faith and leadership, are usually the ones still asking someone else for a second opinion.
Every time I’ve stressed, worried, or carried sadness and pain, I can look back now and see that God was guiding me through the mentors around me the whole time. It took me a long time to realize that — that He was watching over me and listening to prayers I didn’t even know I was praying, through ordinary people I never thought to credit. I have more mentors than I ever gave credit for. And I still need more. Some of them I haven’t even named yet in this article — they’ll be added as I keep learning.
The Mentors God Has Placed Around Me
When I actually sat down and counted, I realized God hasn’t stopped sending people into my life to sharpen me. They just don’t look like the mentors I imagined when I was younger. They’re not always older, not always formal, and not always aware they’re doing it.
My parents. We were once poor, and space at home was limited, so as a child I slept in the same room as my parents. Some nights I’d wake up and just listen to them quietly discussing family finances — worried, but never giving up. Years later, when I came back to Miri to work, my dad gave me a piece of advice I will never forget. In Chinese culture, fathers rarely talk much to their sons, especially once we’re grown — but I always knew he loved us, even in the silence. I think it took him real courage to say what he said that day: “My son, one day a young engineer came to work with me. A machine failed because a part was broken. He didn’t want to listen to my advice, spent several hours trying to fix it himself, and finally gave up. I fixed it in a few minutes. He was speechless. What I want to tell you is — don’t look down on people who are less educated. They may not have the certificate, but they might have more experience than you.” That is still one of the most precious pieces of advice I carry in my heart.
My siblings. I once failed a subject in school, and my mother was furious. She called my sister, who had always looked after my studies and was strict about them when I was young, expecting her to scold me the way she used to. Instead, my sister spoke to me gently and told me not to give up. Without her, I don’t think I would be who I am today. My brother mentored me in his own quiet way too — he worked hard just so we could afford a computer for the family to use.
My wife. She has always supported me in the decisions I make. Through her, I’ve learned what companionship and partnership actually mean, not just in marriage but in how I approach every relationship. I don’t think I would understand God the way I do now without her walking alongside me. She is precious to me.
A business partner. When we started our CCTV installation business, I went through seasons of real stress — clients calling, frustrated, asking why the system was down, why this, why that. I got low, close to burnout. My business partner stayed positive through all of it, encouraged me, and guided me, and he still does today. He’s one of the best people I’ve ever met.
A teaching colleague. She’s my colleague in Physics, and she has patiently guided me in the areas where I’m weak. She helped me think through and find my own philosophy of teaching, not by lecturing me on it, but by patiently walking me through it.
A spiritual brother. He is humble and spiritually mature. He shares his own experiences at work with me, and how he approaches them through God’s guidance rather than his own. We’ve learned discipleship together, and slowly, he has been an eye-opener for me.
A growth mentor. There was a season when I was deeply disappointed with my career and the company I was in. A colleague stepped in to guide me and push me forward — and he pushed hard, hard enough that at one point I became so stressed I was almost scared of him. Looking back, that was the moment God heard my prayers and changed how I saw the whole situation: He had sent this man to help move me toward the dream God had for me. Without him, I don’t think I would have grown the way I did, and God knew that before I did. It took time, but I came to realize how important he has been in my life. He is one of the best I have ever met.
Each of these people gives me something different. Survival skills from one. Encouragement to keep building from another. Spiritual correction I couldn’t give myself from a third. No single mentor could carry all of that weight — which is exactly why I need more than one.
Why This Matters More As You Get Older
There’s a real danger in reaching a certain level of experience: you stop asking questions because you’re used to being the one answering them. In the classroom, in business, at home, people look to me for direction. It would be easy to let that position convince me I don’t need direction myself.
What keeps me teachable, honestly, is remembering why I need these mentors in the first place — not to make me comfortable, but to help me grow, reach the dream God placed in me, and get closer to Him. When a mentor’s words sting, like my growth mentor’s did, I try to ask what God might be building in me through it, instead of protecting my pride.
Scripture doesn’t describe wisdom as something you eventually finish acquiring. It describes it as a posture — a willingness to keep being sharpened, the way iron sharpens iron. That sharpening isn’t comfortable. Good mentors don’t just affirm you; sometimes they correct you, and that stings more at forty than it did at twenty, because by now you’ve built a reputation you feel you have to protect.
An Invitation
If you’re reading this and you’re somewhere near my age — established, respected, maybe even mentoring others yourself — let me ask you the question I had to ask myself: who is still speaking into your life? Not who used to. Who still does, today?
If you can’t name someone, that’s worth sitting with. Growing older was never supposed to mean growing alone.
Take a moment this week to identify one person who has mentored you — recently or years ago — and tell them. Thank them specifically for what they gave you.
Written from Miri, where faith, family, teaching, and business keep teaching me the same lesson from different directions: none of us grow alone.
JOSIAH Miri 