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We were deep within the wild, winding around the sides of a mountain with tall trees above, boulders alongside the path and enclaves and drop offs at every turn. My hiking partner claimed to know his way around this particular spot, pointing at the blazes which clearly marked the various trails. He was supremely confident that he could walk us in and back out of the seemingly endless supply of nature.
It wasn’t long before we were lost. My fearless guide was momentarily confused when he discovered we were not headed the right direction, which didn’t make me feel all that great. After turning in circles and a few false starts, he let out a slight sigh of relief and pointed again at a blaze on a tree just ahead of us. Somehow, we’d missed one of the markers and accidentally began trekking down a different trail. We were halfway down by the time we realized it. The only way to get back to where we wanted to go was to backtrack until we were back to the point where the trails split. The bad news is that we had to retrace our steps, and we lost some time. The good news is that there were clear markers to follow, and we had little trouble course correcting safely.
What a powerful analogy for dealing with a painful past, a problematic present and an uncertain future.
In Jeremiah 31:21 it says “Set up signposts, make landmarks, set your heart toward the highway, the way in which you went.” God was telling his people to clearly mark the path they took as they were led into captivity, because the way to freedom would require them to return the very way they came. Breadcrumbs, like Hansel and Gretel. Blazes, like the ones marking trees on wooded mountain trails.
Our past can be littered with regrets, failures, mistakes, transgressions, betrayals. At some point, we stepped off the path, or wandered onto a completely separate path that leads far away from what God had for us. We wake up one day, open our eyes and we realize we’ve lost our way. And we wonder how in the world we will find our way back. It’s one step at a time. And it requires us to retrace our steps. And unfortunately, it requires us to use the things that create the most pain, shame and embarrassment as landmarks and guideposts. The only way out is through. To recover from a past we’d rather forget, we must first backtrack, passing by each major misstep to gain understanding, find closure and connect more dots to our story. Our freedom requires us to rediscover the journey that led us to captivity in the first place.
With every step, we move closer to the path we were supposed to take, the path that leads forward. It can feel like we’ve been condemned to wander this regretful road for the remainder of our existence, but it’s a temporary setback in the end. If we engage it, one day we will take the next step and feel a change in the ground beneath our feet. There will be a new blaze on the tree in front of us. A different color that signifies we are no longer retracing. A signal that we are stepping out of the past and into the future that God has waiting for us. And with the understanding of where we came from, we will be better equipped to stay on this path, appreciate it and make the absolute most out of it.
Wherever you are will absolutely lead to where you want to be. Just turn around, start backtracking and let God handle the rest.
I posted this picture on my Facebook page earlier this week. Here’s the story behind it and what it means to me.
Several months ago, I attended a weekend retreat with a group of men. We processed a lot of emotions, feelings, past traumas and basically just worked really hard to get a better handle on our fears, wounds, resentments and character defects. It was a pretty intense two days, and there were many deep conversations, inward reflections and buckets of tears.
I left that weekend with a better appreciation for who I am as a man, a clearer view of how my past has shaped me (for better and for worse) and what I need to specifically work on as I stepped forward with my life. I also brought home a souvenir from all my tears. A stye in my right eye.
At first, I just ignored it and assumed it would subside over time. It did not. I went to a couple of eye doctors, who gave me instructions for healing it, including taking medications and applying a warm compress. I tried both, but neither made a difference. So, I ignored it some more. Then, I went to an ophthalmologist for a closer look. He advised me to follow up with their surgical specialist to see about removing it. I scheduled an appointment. Rescheduled it. Cancelled it again. Scheduled it a third time. Finally, I went.
After a long wait, the doctor finally called me back and explained the procedure. They would deaden the eyelid with a cream and then a big needle. Then they would pry it open with a clamp, lacerate it, scrape out all the stuff inside the stye and then cauterize it back together. And I’d be as good as new. Risks would include infection or possibly damaged vision (although that was very rare). She asked me if I wanted to continue with the procedure.
I paused and seriously contemplated saying no thanks, I’m good, have a nice day. But I proceeded. I sat in the room forever waiting on the doctor to come back and actually perform the surgery. I almost left the room twice. I was filled with dread. I hate things near my eyes. I hate needles. I hate any kind of medical procedure. I hated everything about this. But I stayed. And waited. And finally, the doctor was working on me.
At the end of the visit, I was in pain, bandaged up, looking like I lost a fight in a big way. But the stye was removed. And in a few days, I’ll be, hopefully, good as new.
This is so symbolic of my journey in recent months. There have been many moments where I had to choose to subject myself to extreme discomfort and pain to make positive steps in my life and to care for myself. I’ve had to do many challenging and hard things that previously I avoided at all costs. I had to purge myself of fears and hurts that I had resigned to live with and deal with forever. Things that, like my stye, weren’t incredibly easy to notice, at least not if you weren’t looking closely. But they were there nonetheless, having an impact.
If you’re trying to decide whether to deal with a problem in your life, whether it’s a stye, a sin or a sickness, let me share these 4 truths with you:
- It won’t go away. You aren’t going to wake up one day and be rid of it. You aren’t going to wait it out. It’s not going to just give up and leave you alone.
- It will only get worse. Sure, there’s a minimal chance that my stye would have shrunk over time, but it was far more likely to get bigger. Most of our problems are like that. They only get stronger and more hellish the longer we let them fester.
- It will hurt. When you decide to deal with it, you can bank on the fact that it won’t be pleasant. There will be pain and suffering. It will sting. You will ache.
- It will be worth it. When my eye is fully healed, I’ll be glad to no longer have the stye. It will be a relief. The temporary pain I endured will be a steep discount compared to the price I would have paid to avoid it and keep that puss pocket under my eyelid for the rest of my life.
If you made it this far in the post, you likely have a specific problem that has risen to the top of your mind. A problem you don’t want to deal with. A problem that might even seem like an annoyance at the moment, versus something that is an urgent need. But it’s there, and it’s been there. And it’s been nagging you, gnawing at you, getting bigger. Maybe it’s a tough decision you have to make. A wrong you need to make right. A confession that needs to take place. An act of forgiveness that is extra difficult. A sin you need to surrender. A wound you need to heal. A commitment you should make. Whatever it is, I urge you to take action. Take a step. Lean in! No matter how painful it might be. How scary it might seem. How overwhelmed you might feel. Take action. Take a step. Lean in!
As for me, I can see clearly now; my stye is gone! I hope you can say the same soon.
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