I used to think that by the time I turned 40, I would finally be the one people came to for answers. Instead, the closer I get, the more I notice how much I still need someone ahead of me, beside me, and sometimes younger than me, to tell me what I cannot see on my own.
Maybe you have felt this too. There is a quiet expectation that growing older means growing independent. That by a certain age, you should have it figured out. That needing correction, advice, or guidance is something for the young, not for someone with grey hair, a title, or years of experience behind them.
I want to push back on that idea, because I have lived long enough now to know it is not true.
Growth Doesn’t Retire the Roots
Think about a tree. A young sapling needs deep roots to survive. But so does a fifty-year-old tree standing tall in a storm. The taller a tree grows, the more it needs a stable root system underground, or the wind will bring it down faster than it would a small one. Height does not remove the need for roots. If anything, it increases it.
I think mentorship works the same way in our lives. The more responsibility we carry — as a father, a lecturer, a business owner, a leader in our church or community — the more we need people who can see what we cannot, and who have permission to speak into our blind spots.
Maturity is not the absence of a need for guidance. Maturity is recognising that need clearly, and being humble enough to keep receiving it.
The Mentors God Has Placed Around Me
As I get closer to 40, I have started paying more attention to the different people God has placed in my life, and the different kinds of guidance each one gives.
- My parents — the foundation. Even now, their voice still carries a kind of wisdom that comes only from having walked further down the road than I have.
- My siblings — honesty without formality. They tell me things a colleague or business partner never would, because they knew me before I built any of my titles.
- A business partner — someone who challenges my decisions in the moment, not after the fact, when the stakes are real.
- A teaching colleague — someone who reminds me what good teaching actually looks like, especially when I get too comfortable with my own methods.
- A spiritual brother — someone who asks about my walk with God, not just my workload.
- A growth mentor — someone further along who helps me see the next stage before I get there.
One of the people who influenced my personal growth was mentors who was willing to correct me honestly. During mental breakdown in business world, this person pointed out that my attitude, decision, or way of handling the situation needed to change. The correction was uncomfortable because I initially believed that my approach was reasonable. However, instead of rejecting the advice, I began to reflect on it carefully. I realised that personal growth does not come only through encouragement; it also comes through correction from people who genuinely care about our development. That experience taught me to become more humble, teachable, and willing to examine my weaknesses before making important decisions.
None of these people play the same role. A business partner cannot replace a spiritual brother. A parent’s wisdom cannot replace a colleague’s classroom insight. Each one sharpens a different part of who I am becoming.
What We Lose When We Stop Being Teachable
Scripture puts it simply: “As iron sharpens iron, so one person sharpens another.” [Josiah: please confirm translation/reference — Proverbs 27:17.] Iron does not sharpen itself. It needs friction, contact, and another piece of iron pressing against it.
When we stop allowing people to sharpen us, a few things happen quietly, without us noticing at first. Our blind spots grow larger instead of smaller. Our pride becomes harder to see, because no one is close enough to point at it anymore. And as fathers, as leaders, as teachers, we start modelling something dangerous to the people watching us: that once you reach a certain level of success or age, you no longer need anyone.
That is not the example I want to leave for my children, my students, or the people who work alongside me. I would rather they see a man who is still learning, still correctable, and still grateful for the people who tell him the truth.
Questions Worth Sitting With
- Who in my life still has permission to correct me, and when did I last actually listen to them?
- When was the last time I asked someone older or wiser for their opinion before making a decision, instead of after?
- Am I building relationships where I only give advice, or also relationships where I receive it?
- What kind of example am I setting for my children about needing other people?
- If I stopped listening to my mentors today, what would I lose five years from now that I cannot see yet?
You do not need to answer all of these today. Just sit with one of them for a moment. Let it be uncomfortable if it needs to be.
One Simple Step
Here is what I am doing this week, and what I want to invite you to do as well: identify one person who has mentored you, in any season of your life, and thank them. Not in a vague way. Tell them specifically what they taught you, and how it shaped who you have become.
Turning 40 was never going to be the finish line where I stop needing people. If anything, it is a reminder that growth is not something we graduate from. It is something we keep choosing, one mentor, one correction, one honest conversation at a time.
This is a sensitive and personal reflection drawn from real life. If parts of this resonate with you and you are working through your own season of comparison, isolation, or pride, I would encourage you to reach out to a trusted mentor, pastor, or counsellor in your own life.
JOSIAH Miri 