Looking Back Before Moving Forward

We’d begun our day at the foot of a mountain. The sun had yet to rise, but our spirits were sky high. Our knapsacks were packed. Our headlamps were shimmering. And we were ready to explore the trail that led to the snowy peak above our heads. 

We weren’t a posse of athletes or a troupe of seasoned hikers. We were just an eclectic band of college students who had signed up for a class called Outdoor Pursuits. This was the course where we traded scholastic contemplation for adventurous application; the one where we swapped textbooks for hiking boots and exchanged essays for experiences. 

In Outdoor Pursuits, our professors were field guides instead of lecturers, recreators instead of researchers. They didn’t ask us to sit at desks and listen to the drone of discourse every day. Instead, they piled us into rusty school vans and took us on weekly excursions. Our classroom stretched as wide as the sea and as tall as the mountains, as deep as the caves beneath our feet and as slender as the hairline clefts snaking across the craggy cliffs.

That’s why we found ourselves padding along a rugged trail in the dark before dawn on a cold day in March. Our instructor led the way with a silvery stream of light and a hearty laugh. The quiet thud of his gnarled walking stick supplied the beat for our trekking feet, and his spirited stories spurred our steps. 

We’d heard tales of this particular path before. It was known for its pristine beauty and menacing monorails, its stunning scenery and slippery scree. But as the twinkle of stars gave way to the thrill of sunrise, we refused to be afraid. Instead, we greeted the challenge with twenty-year-old confidence and stubborn grit. 

I enjoyed the journey at first. I snapped pictures and shared laughter. I sang along with my instructor’s off-key songs and listened to my classmates’ upbeat chatter. For hours, I tackled the tricky terrain with grit and approached the arduous scrambles with courage…

Until I didn’t.

I’m not sure when it happened, but as the trail grew thin and my legs grew weary, I began to savor less and stumble more. I shifted my eyes from the stretching sky to my freezing feet. I turned my attention from the stunning landscape to my shrieking lungs. 

By the time we reached the peak, I wanted nothing more than to put the day behind me. I was dizzy and nauseous. Miserable and cold. While my classmates exchanged high-fives and hugs, I sat on a dusty rock and hoped my wobbly legs would hold me when I tried to stand again.

The trip down the mountain was a blur of dizzy exhaustion and frozen tears. My strength was sapped and my lungs were quaking. My lips were bleeding and my head was aching. “That was a terrible trail,” I muttered to my friend when our hike finally came to an end.  

By the time we piled back into the school van and made our way to the rustic lodge where we’d spend the night, all I wanted to do was climb into bed, pull the covers over my head and forget every detail of my disappointing climb. 

But after I’d savored a steamy shower and a bowl of hot soup, I found myself lingering around a stony hearth with the dear friend who had hiked beside me. And as we huddled in that blaze of firelight, we reflected on our day. 

My friend’s eyes danced with awe as she described the ever-changing hues of the rock face and the intricate textures in the treetops, the melody of the babbling brook and the song of the birds in the trees. 

And as I listened to my friend recount the wonder of that “terrible trail,” I realized that the storied path had held beauty I’d failed to see through my struggle.

My legs still ached when I climbed into bed that night but my heart felt lighter. And as I pulled the covers to my chin, I was grateful for the chance to peer at my trying trek through the eyes of someone who had been with me all along.

Oddly enough, I thought about that long-ago hike as I sat with an open journal page on my lap on the first day of 2022. You see, if I’m honest, the pot-holed path of 2021 felt a lot like that “terrible trail” I tackled nearly three decades ago.

This past year was fraught with disappointment and discouragement, sadness and struggle. It sapped my hope and stung my heart; wearied my soul and whittled my strength. And as 2021 came to a close, all I wanted to do was to leave the year behind without a backwards glance. 

But as I lingered with Jesus on the first day of 2022, the Holy Spirit reminded me of this simple truth—I haven’t walked through the last twelve months alone. My Savior has been with me every step of the way.

So, before I filled my journal page with new dreams and brazen resolutions, with fresh words of hope and resurrected prayers of faith, I invited Jesus to do for me what my friend once did as we lingered near a blazing fire.

“Jesus, would you tell me what you see when you look back at the past year with me?”

It was an invitation and a prayer all wrapped into one.

Because a good friend and a winding mountain trail once taught me that sprinkled in the midst of struggles I’d rather forget are graces I need to remember. And scattered along our paths of pain are precious wisps of wonder. 

So, I closed my eyes and listened to what Jesus had to say about the year we’ve just finished. And as He reminded me of what He’d seen and done, I wrote it in my journal as a testimony to my aching heart and a salve for my tattered soul. Because sometimes we need to look back with humility so we can move forward in hope.

No matter what kind of path you traveled in 2021, I invite you to join me in looking back before you lunge forward. But let’s not look back alone. Let’s ask the Friend who has shared our steps to also share His sight.

Let’s lean in and listen as the Holy Spirit shows us those forgotten moments of goodness and grace, and then let’s give thanks for all the beauty we may have missed along the way. As we do, we just may discover that the more we see God’s hand in the year we’re leaving behind us, the more we’ll trust His heart in the year that looms before us.

Happy 2022, friends! Thanks for spending time with us here as we welcome a new year. f you’d like stay connected to this community of Jesus-chasers and hope-dwellers, feel free to subscribe. As a welcome gift, we’ll send you ten promises to remind you that God is with you. Also, if you haven’t read my devotion for Proverbs 31 today, you can find it here. It’s a tale about a tough season, a fresh start, and a walk around the block to discover the goodness of God.

If you’d like some help looking back at 2021 before you embrace 2022, I’ve designed a resource for you called “Looking Back.” These prayer prompts will guide you as you spend time with Jesus seeking His perspective on the past year and gleaning the treasure you may have missed. Just click the download button to grab your free copy. And, if you have a minute before you go, let us know in the comments how we can pray for you as we step into a new year.

Oh yeah, one more thing! I’d love to bring a message of encouragement to your next women’s event. Check out my speaking topics here and don’t hesitate to email me if you’d like to partner in ministry in the year to come.