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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 recently watched a television special on ESPN featuring the story of Southern Methodist University and its football team’s infamous journey from rising national powerhouse to being wiped off the map by the NCAA’s death penalty in 1985. For all the non-sports fans out there, SMU cheated in 100 different ways to build a winning football team, and after several rebukes by the NCAA, its program was effectively destroyed by the harshest punishment in NCAA history. The program is only now showing signs of life, more than 30 years later.
Many of the people who created the cheating culture and conducted the majority of illegal and unethical behavior were long gone by the time the NCAA brought down the hammer. The head coach who was there when the ship finally sank wasn’t the one who set course for the iceberg. He just couldn’t steer the ship clear in time. That fate had been set in motion and could not be avoided.
This is a great example of the long tail of sin. The echoes that mistakes can make in times to come. The consequence, sometimes delayed, of regrets, wounds and weakness.
It can seem unfair, when the echoes come. When you think you’ve seen the worst of it. So relieved to have it behind you, whatever “it” is, and to be starting over. But the consequences aren’t always immediate. Sometimes, your mistakes set into motion a series of other painful events that are yet to unfold in your life. The tendency, at least for me, is to then ask God what in the world He thinks He’s doing. Why is He continuing to punish you for the mistakes you made? Why is some of that punishment delayed? Why now? Why isn’t He restoring instead of destroying? Why is He hurting (you and others) instead of healing? Why is He not choosing to create a happy ending here? We expect that once we’ve repented, once we’ve made amends, once we’ve given it all up to God, it’s time for the miracle, the redemption. That is all true. But if the ship has been directed at an iceberg, God makes no promises that you won’t still hit it.
“Your affliction is incurable. Your wound is severe.”
That’s a quote from Jeremiah 30:12-18. This passage says that you’ll be bound up, have nothing to heal you, be forgotten by your lover, all because of the multitude of your iniquities and the increase of your sin. And then, it asks a hurtful question.
“Why do you cry about your affliction?” As if it should be assumed that this is happening.
At the end of the passage, after explaining that you are receiving grave consequences because of your sin, it says God will “restore health to you and heal you of your wounds.” Those incurable, self-inflicted, devastating wounds. God’s plan is perfect, even though it can be painful.
Another passage, Malachi 2:13-15, says, “You cover the alter of the Lord with tears, with weeping and crying; so He does not regard the offering anymore, nor receive it with goodwill from your hands.” As you read along, it continues, “Yet you say ‘For what reason?'” The passage answers the question, stating that the Lord has been witness to your transgression.
Alexander MacLaren is one of my favorite commentators on scripture. In his examination of these verses, he says:
“Every sin draws after it evil consequences which work themselves out” in your life. “The miseries which follow our sins are self-inflicted, and for the most part automatic.”
In other words, you will reap what you sow. I guess that cliché is true after all. He continues, “If we understand the connection between sin and suffering, and the fact that the sorrows which are but the echoes of preceding sins have all a distinctively moral and restorative purpose, we are prepared rightly to estimate how tenderly the God who warns us against our sins by what men call threatenings, loves us while He speaks.”
And just like the previous scripture in Jeremiah, there remains a promise for redemption.
“No sin can stay our reception of a multitude of good gifts,” said MacLaren.
Sorrows as echoes of preceding sins. That’s really hard to accept. Especially when you feel like you are no longer the person who set the ship on a collision course with the iceberg in the first place. When a changed heart, and a revived spirit is within you. When you’ve begun to transform your life. When you do the work. You likely expect it’s now time for restoration, hope, reward, joy. Not the beginning of an even more difficult journey.
Sometimes, that is true. And sometimes, the long tail of sin still has to work its way out of the picture. And the tip of that tail is most likely the most painful part of it.
I encourage anyone out there who is trying to change, to rebuild, to make things better, to understand that the echoes won’t last forever. At some point, you’ve hit the iceberg, put the pieces back together, and you start winning again. It may feel like forever. But the consequences will work themselves out in your life. In the midst of the echoes is not the time to give up on your God. Even if you are losing what you dearly love. It’s exactly the time when He’s getting ready to do His most miraculous work. It’s not a convenient process. But you can’t argue with the conclusion. It’s hard. It hurts. I don’t know why things are unfolding as they are for you. I can’t even begin to answer that question for myself at the moment. But I want to see how the story ends. God tells great stories.
One of the funniest 3 minutes of cinema, in my humble opinion, is a dinner scene in The Nutty Professor, where the grandma of the family challenges her son, Cletus, to come around to her side of the table to settle an argument. She tells him with extreme confidence that “you walk over, but you’re limping back.”
It’s pretty scary, entering into a fight against an opponent you know you can’t beat. They will impose their will on you. They will defeat you. There’s no way to escape affliction. Cletus knew what his mom said was the truth. If he walked over, he’d be limping back!” He talked a good game, but in the end, he let that fear nail him to his seat. He was not about to get within arms reach of that feisty old lady.
I can identify with Cletus. With the fear he felt. It’s the same fear I felt when God was summoning me to engage with Him. To come around the table and wrestle with Him.
Jacob famously wrestled with God and forever walked with a limp afterward, a continual reminder of the wisdom he received during that encounter. No doubt, if you come around the table to wrestle with God, you will limp back. It’s a fact. I knew this was the truth. Like Cletus, I sat in my chair and refused to move closer to God. Not wanting to be afflicted with a limp.
This is where the comparison with Cletus ends. It was probably a smart move for him to stay seated. But when it’s God and not Grandma issuing the challenge, not answering the call is short sighted at best. The alternative, if we refuse to wrestle, is to be caged by sin. Paralyzed by fear, shame, guilt, resentment and a host of other negative emotions. Enslaved by our past, taken out by our wounds.
It’s okay to be afraid. But here’s what you have to do about it:
It is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living God…do not cast away your confidence…you have need of endurance, so that after you have done the will of God, you may receive the promise. – Hebrews 10: 31-36
It is an illusion to believe that we are walking just fine without God. If we try to just go along with our life, just push down the darkness, just shove those painful memories in a corner, just minimize and rationalize our behavior, just ignore the hurt, we in essence will be rendered unable to walk at all. Emotionally crippled. Paralyzed. Because we didn’t want to endure the pain of walking with a limp. Of engaging in our own work, dealing with our own stuff, and allowing God to touch us in a way that marks His purpose in our lives.
I currently walk with a very noticeable limp. I’ve had to face fears, insecurities, wounds, trauma, abuse and a rash of poor decisions and regrettable actions on my part. I have wrestled with God, continue to do so. And my flesh is losing the fight. That’s a good thing. It hurts. I’ll never walk the same when I’m done. But that’s a good thing. A really, really good thing. Sure beats not walking at all.
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.
Several weeks back, I spent a weekend with a group of men. All of us seeking deeper insight about ourselves, better understanding of God’s plan for our lives. During a break in the action, a few of us were walking the trails of the retreat center and stumbled upon a labyrinth. As we walked single file through the pattern, to the center and back out to the perimeter, we made small talk but mostly relaxed and decompressed from previous high-intensity conversations and group work. It was my first time in a labyrinth. To be honest, outside of Greek mythology, I had never really been exposed to the concept of a labyrinth. All I could remember is that I thought a labyrinth was where they kept the Minotaur. Didn’t sound like a great place to be.
In reality, a labyrinth can be a very peaceful place, full of meditation, focus and relaxation. A place of clarity. And within the pathway of the labyrinth that day, I realized something revolutionary.
I’ve always experienced my life as a very complicated maze. It was overwhelming, all the choices to be made, all the paths I could take. I felt confused and astray most of the time, reaching ahead clumsily with my limited sight, fearing what the next turn would present to me, fearful of a wrong turn or a dead end. I was lost. I thought I needed to solve the maze. I thought there must be a way out.
It turns out that life is less of a maze and more of a labyrinth. At least for those who believe in God as their higher power.
A maze is a complex puzzle that includes choices. It can have multiple entrances and exits and most importantly, dead ends. A labyrinth, by comparison, offers a single, non-branching path, which leads to the center and back out the same way. One entrance. One exit. One pathway.
In Psalm 16:11 it says, “You will show me the path of life.”
Notice that says, “THE” path. The world would tell you that every choice you make sets the path for your future. It’s a choose your adventure kind of life. But God says there is a plan for you. A highly specific plan that has been laid out before you. Sometimes we might be standing still, or walking backwards or feel lost or stuck, but if we step forward in faith, God will deliver us to the center and back again.
The entire book of Jeremiah is about surrendering to God’s will as the only way to escape calamity. There’s only one path. It twists, and it turns and sometimes it seems like you aren’t going anywhere. Sometimes you can almost see your destination, and then it feels like you are headed in the wrong direction, going farther away from where you thought you were being called. But if you persevere in the path God has provided, eventually you will enter into the promises He has made to all who call Him their Lord and Savior. He has ordered our steps. He has carefully crafted the journey He is asking us each to take. It’s not a maze. There aren’t dead ends. There might be pain, suffering, trials, tribulations. Bad decisions. Slow to no progress. But it will all be used to advance you to the ultimate end.
In Proverbs 3:5-7 it says, “Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge Him and He shall direct your paths.”
Conversely, if we don’t place one foot in front of the other, believing we are walking within a labyrinth and not a maze, we will feel much differently about the situation.
In John 12:35 it says, “He who walks in darkness does not know where he is going.” Hosea 9:17 reaffirms this, suggesting that those who don’t trust in Lord’s plan for them will be “wanderers among the nations.”
When you trust that God is in control, the maze of life becomes manageable. You quickly begin to see that while the pattern is complicated, curvy and complex, it is indeed a path. If you are diligent and obedient, this path can lead only to one place. And you’ll be so glad you followed it. When we take things into our own hands, we can paralyze ourselves and convince ourselves that we are trapped in a maze and there’s no hope for escape. I spent way too much of my life convinced of that. I no longer waste energy or time worried about the next turn, because I know that the path I’m on leads me to God and His completely perfect will for my life.
I look back, and I can see how He used all the “wrong turns” and “dead ends” and “slow going” in incredibly powerful ways. Every time I returned my focus on Him, I moved closer to the center, no matter how far I had strayed or how long I had tarried. Life is not a maze. It is a labyrinth. The path you are on is ordained by God. Train your eyes on Him, take the next step forward and soon enough you will see what I have seen. I promise you’ll never be the same.
Welcome to 2013. I’m not much for resolutions in the new year, but I do think it’s a great opportunity to push reset and try again.
So if I had to officially state my plans for the year ahead, the following five objectives sum it up, more or less.
1. Believe more, doubt less. In myself, my God and others.
2. Ride more, drive less. If God is truly in control, why do I keep reaching for the wheel? In addition to faith, I could use a little patience. And self control.
3. Write more, think less. I’ve been a horrible writer lately. Not because I’m writing badly, but because I’m not writing regularly. I need to get stuff out of my head and down on paper (or screen).
4. Finish more, start less. Which is the opposite of my nature. The first thing I’m going to finish this year is that book I keep talking about. Long overdue.
5. Smile more, stress less. This will be the hardest one, because it really depends on whether I can accomplish objectives 1 and 2. I have a lot to be thankful for, and I’m just not thankful enough. The glass is actually half full if I’m being rational with myself.
And that’s what I’ll be focused on, more or less. Oh, and I also want to be fluent in Spanish, eat better, be smarter financially, be an even better dad and husband, go somewhere I’ve always wanted to go and grow a successful business. Ok, that’s it. Piece of cake, right?
the way to (t)here 
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