There are different kinds of strength. We tend to associate the word with big muscles and athletic prowess. Or maybe we think of inner strength, a kind of unshakable resilience that allows a man to weather life’s storms and accomplish something noteworthy. But whatever form it takes, masculine strength is always at its best—its truest—when it is put in service to others.
God gives men strength, and like all good gifts, it is meant to be used rightly. It should come as no surprise, then, that one of man’s greatest temptations has always been to misuse it, lord it over others, get his own way, or glorify himself.
That’s not a problem with strength itself, but rather how it is wielded. Strength, when used as God intends, is what makes a man a blessing to those around him.
Whether that strength is mental, emotional, physical, or spiritual, it can always be directed toward the good of others and the glory of God. Strength like that may seem hard to find. But sometimes, you just have to look in the right place.
The greatest demonstrations of strength don’t always take place on a field or in a gym. Sometimes, they unfold out on a trail, so quietly you might miss them if no one pointed them out.
And that kind of strength—the kind that serves, the kind that sacrifices—is exactly the kind our country needs most right now.
Jackson, a Trailman from Troop NC-0834 in Rocky Mount, North Carolina, recently earned Trail Life’s highest award, the Freedom Award. One of Jackson’s adult leaders in Trail Life, Ken Carnahan, recalled how Jackson developed a habit of bringing a larger backpack than he needed on backpacking trips.
“The reason is so that if anyone needs him to take any of their gear to lighten their load, he will be prepared,” Ken explained. “He does not advertise it as a badge of honor. He just quietly does what he is born to do: lead from behind.”
“I was the recipient of this grace and love on our last hike,” Ken recalls, and it clearly left a mark on him.
Bringing a backpack with extra space—it’s such a little thing. Yet, as an athlete, an older Trailman, and an experienced backpacker, Jackson was able to do something critical: he was able to connect his God-given strength to the needs of others. Having a little extra space in his pack allows Jackson to quietly relieve a friend of his burden and take that burden on himself.
And the most significant part is that Jackson doesn’t make a big deal out of it. It would be easy to do this service in a way that draws attention. But that’s not Jackson’s approach. And it’s part of a bigger pattern that can be seen throughout Jackson’s life.
Again and again, Jackson has shown the same instinct: not to step ahead for recognition, but to step in where he’s needed. Long before anyone noticed the extra space in his pack, he was already doing the kind of work that rarely draws attention.
That strength shows up in the way he prepares. On one trip, Jackson spent hours planning a backpacking expedition in Colorado—mapping routes, calculating food, organizing logistics—knowing the work wouldn’t count toward any advancement requirements.
There was no badge attached to it. No requirement to fulfill. No recognition waiting at the end. But the Troop needed it. So he did it.
It shows up in the way he leads. Rather than assuming he had all the answers, Jackson made a point to understand the boys around him by asking questions, gathering input, and shaping plans that served the group, not just his own preferences.
And it shows up in the way he carries responsibility. Not just when it’s visible. Not just when it’s easy. But in the quiet, behind-the-scenes work that keeps things moving forward.
Strength like that doesn’t appear all at once. It’s formed over time, often in moments that don’t seem all that significant. For Jackson, one of those moments came in a place most people wouldn’t expect. A Waffle House.
“In the summer between my sophomore and junior years, I went to Waffle House with Josh,” Jackson recalls. “He’s a Freedom Rangeman—about three years older than me—and he’s known me since 2013. He’s really like a big brother.”
What started as a casual meal turned into something more.
“He basically sat me down and asked me some hard questions,” Jackson said. “‘What do you want to do in Trail Life? Why is it important to you? Do you see yourself going any further?’”
At the time, Jackson knew he hadn’t been progressing the way he could have. And hearing those questions, especially from someone he respected, forced him to take a harder look at himself.
“It kind of lit a fire under me,” he said. “It made me realize that Trail Life really is important and worth investing in.”
That moment didn’t change everything overnight. But it stayed with him and set the tone for the next few years of his journey. Now, he finds himself wanting to do the same for others.
“I want to be able to do for younger guys what Josh did for me,” he said. “To show them what Trail Life really means: becoming a godly man and growing in faith alongside your friends.”
“You get out of it what you put into it,” Jackson’s dad, Mark, said. “Jackson has invested a lot into the ministry. As a result, he's grown from that. But he'll be able to take this experience with him anywhere in life.”
And the Waffle House conversation wasn’t the only moment that left a mark on Jackson. His dad remembers how the Troop helped also helped shape Jackson as a leader from an early age: “he was a cocky sixth grader, barking orders,” Mark recalls. “That was his leadership style.”
“Mr. Dan helped me out a lot with that,” Jackson says. “He helped me see how I was doing things from other people’s perspectives. I remember him asking me the question: ‘What would you think if someone led you the way you’re leading right now?’”
“That question made something click in my brain. I understood that the leadership aspect of Trail Life is more than just getting things done. It's actually having a bond with the other guys and to get a good friendship and almost a brotherhood.”
Over time, lessons like these began to shape the way Jackson approached the opportunities in front of him. He didn’t just look for what he could gain. He began to look for where he could serve, where he could step in, and where he could help carry the load. And decision by decision, that mindset took root until it became part of who he was.
In his Freedom award portfolio, Jackson encapsulated this growth by firmly declaring, “My Christian faith is the foundation of my conduct in Trail Life, church, school, and athletics. I strive to show humility, integrity, and respect for authority, to treat everyone with honor, and to remain composed under pressure. These values guide how I lead and serve.”
It’s one thing to carry extra weight on the trail. It’s another to carry it when things don’t go as planned. On one outing, Jackson helped plan and lead a survival-style camp—an experience designed to push the boys beyond comfort and practice survival skills. They carried extra weight. They went without food for a time. They worked to filter water and manage their resources.
It was hard. And by the end of it, the group had done exactly what they set out to do. They pushed through. They endured. They finished. And initially, the boys spoke positively of the event and were proud of what they’d accomplished.
But afterward, for reasons Jackson didn’t fully comprehend, the tone shifted. Boys started talking about what a terrible trip it was. Complaints and grumbling followed, some directed directly at Jackson.
“All that all that work and effort for them just to be mad at him afterwards—that was a pill for him to swallow,” Mark recalls. “It hurt him inside.”
Moments like that can test a leader in a different way. It’s easy to stay steady when things are going well. It’s much harder when the people you’re trying to serve begin to push back.
Jackson didn’t argue. He didn’t defend himself. He didn’t try to force his perspective. He absorbed it. He listened. He let the moment settle. And in doing so, he showed a different kind of strength—the kind that doesn’t react, doesn’t escalate, doesn’t need to win the moment.
That kind of steady strength is hard. It’s about choosing to serve—even when it’s not received the way you hoped.
By now, that small detail, the oversized backpack, doesn’t seem so small. Jackson is the kind of guy who proactively puts himself in position to step in when someone needs help. And when that moment inevitably comes, he doesn’t hesitate. He takes the weight. That’s what his strength is for. Not to get ahead. Not to stand out. But to make sure no one else falls behind.
That same strength shows up in how Jackson carries responsibility beyond the trail. He’s a multi-sport athlete, playing both football and basketball—often with schedules that stretch nearly year-round.
“From May through February, I’m in season,” he said. “Football runs into basketball, and it can get pretty busy.”
Balancing that with Trail Life wasn’t always easy.
“Sometimes I had to show up late. Sometimes I couldn’t make it at all because of schoolwork,” he admitted. “But I always tried to be there when I could.”
Progress didn’t come in a straight line. Some seasons slowed his advancement, but he stayed committed.
“I think it shows you can do both,” he said. “You don’t have to choose one or the other. You can be involved in a lot of things and still grow.”
And through it all, the same pattern remained—showing up, carrying responsibility, staying steady. That consistency hasn’t gone unnoticed.
“Jackson has grown in his boldness to pursue what is right and just,” said his football coach, Jeremy Jones. “I have never seen him mistreat a teammate, classmate, or anyone else. He lives a life marked by respect for others—regardless of who they are or how they treat him.”
Anyone can carry their own weight. Strength is revealed in the man who chooses to carry someone else’s. In every generation, there are men who quietly shoulder what others cannot. They don’t always stand out. But they are the reason others make it through.
Earlier this month, we told the story of Francis Marion, the Swamp Fox—one of the heroes of the American War for Independence. Marion exemplified strength rooted in virtue, balancing the needs of his men, the demands of Christian love, forgiveness, and respect for life, and his duties as a warrior. As we celebrate the 250th anniversary of our freedom, it’s fitting to reflect on the character of men like Marion who helped establish the nation we know and love today.
If the next 250 years are to be marked by strength—real strength—it will not be because of louder voices or stronger appearances. It will be because boys are formed into men, like Jackson, who know what strength is for. Not for themselves, but for others.
Find a Troop near you or learn how to bring Trail Life to your community at TrailLifeUSA.com