The Worth Of Knowing

The other day my six year old started out our mile hike sprinting. My husband and I looked at each other smiling as she continued to run up a hill. She was fast and determined, but we knew what was inevitably going to happen.

Halfway up the hill she stopped in her tracks and lay down on a large rock along the side of the path.

Happy, but tired she asked, “How far did I run?”

“150 feet,” my husband said. It was going to be a long half mile walk to the lookout.

Our daughter has little understanding of how time and distance work – our four year old son has even less. Their early optimism gave way to discouragement. We didn’t arrive at the destination in the timeframe they expected.

But it was okay. Whether they were enthusiastic and optimistic or tired and doubting the lookout was still there less than half a mile ahead. Even though we couldn’t see it yet, my husband and knew we’d be there soon. We would help our kids get there.

When it comes to God’s work in our lives I find that we often get confused by time and distance too. Whether we’re struggling to conquer a sin, believe God’s love for us, or wrestle with doubts we often get so focused on our current reality that we forget that something different could be just around the corner. We don’t arrive in the timeframe we expect.

As hard and lonely as it is to experience this myself, I think it’s just as hard to see others experiencing this sort of deep discouragement on their joirney. I wish I could scoop them up, like I could with my kids, and carry them. But I’m not strong enough and I can’t walk someone else’s journey for them.

There are a few things I can do. Just like I could acknowledge my kids’ current reality on the trail by saying, “I see you’re hot and tired, that’s hard,” I can acknowledge the difficulty of another’s current reality. I can remind them that two things can be real – what they’re feeling and God’s goodness.

I can point to how far they’ve come, how God has kept them this far, how though they’re discouraged they’re still struggling forward.

I can help them set manageable goals and encourage them when they meet them and comfort them when they don’t.

And when emotions are high and words are just noise I can offer my presence. Maybe even that can be evidence that God is still with them on the difficult trail.

But – this is the hard part for me – whether or not their perspective becomes more hopeful or not it’s going to be okay.

The reality of the lookout at the end of the trail did not change whether my kids were crying while I carried them there or if they walked cheerfully with their hands in mine.

I pray I would trust that my strong God is with the discouraged and weak. He will get them to their destination.