The Journey You Don’t Want to Take

The Journey You Don’t Want to Take March 1, 2017

By Brittany Stillwell Krebs

4_b-krebs-mug
Brittany Stillwell Krebs

Every Labor Day weekend in college, the first weekend after classes started back, while the syllabus shock was still paralyzing and the reuniting of roommates was still exciting, the A Capella Choir, of which I was honored to be a member, would go on retreat. We would spend the weekend in long rehearsals and engaging in ridiculous bonding rituals. I always dreaded this retreat, especially that first year. I didn’t entirely know what was going to happen, but I knew it would be a very long, exhausting weekend full of hard work with a little bit of fun mixed in. I was already overwhelmed by the long list of assignments and concerts that would be demanded of me over the course of the semester. I already felt behind and exhausted and knew it was only going to get worse.

You can probably guess what I’m going to say next. I’m going to tell you that those weekends were some of the best weekends of my college career.  I’m going to tell you that I don’t remember the grueling rehearsals or just how exhausting those weekends were. I’m going to tell you that what I do remember is the silly traditions, the bonds made and the beautiful music that I will always be proud to be a part of, and how it was all worth it. And all of this is true. After a year or two of going on this retreat I knew it would be worth it, but that never removed the panic that began to build during that first week of classes or the sense of dread that set in right before we left.

Well, here we are again. The 40 days of Lent are coming quickly and the road stretches long before us and while I know that the end result is resurrection, I also know it’s going to get a lot harder before it gets better. I know that it is going to be overwhelming and exhausting and that I am already behind.  I also know that while the season of Lent is only 40 days, some of us are beginning and continuing journeys that won’t end on April 16; journeys that we are not prepared for, journeys that we don’t want to be on, journeys that will probably get worse before they get better.

So how do we get ready for a journey we don’t want to take? How do we prepare ourselves for the road ahead?

I don’t really have the answer. I never managed to figure it out. I’ve never been able to cut through the panic or eliminate the sense of dread completely. But here’s what I do know: Pack up what you need and breathe, call your mom before you go and tell her just how much you don’t want to go (she loves that “I told you so” moment when you get back), and then get on the bus. And while you are on the road, do your best to lean into the experience; to be fully present, so you can remember, all those years later, the play times and the hard work, the joy and the heartache.

But before we go, a prayer:

Prayer for Those Starting a Journey They Don’t Want To Take

All-Knowing God,
Your light shines bright.
But all we can see is shadows
And we can’t help but imagine what heartache and sorrow lies tucked in the dark corners.

You know where we are headed
And every inch of the path that leads us there.
But we can’t see past the next bend in the road
And we can’t help but imagine what danger lies behind the next turn.

Accompanying Christ,
We can’t help but look for a shortcut;
For some way to skip past the pain to the good stuff.

But you didn’t take the easy way out
And we can’t either.

We don’t want to start this journey
And we are scared to take the first step
Because we know it will get harder before it gets easier.

We have heard the horror stories.
We have been here before.

And still you call, Beckoning Spirit,
Summoning us to follow you into the wilderness;
To resist the temptation of the easy way.

Asking us to put down the map and let go of our need to know all the details;
To trust you to guide us.
Urging us to birth something new;
to count on you to walk with us as we labor through the pain.
Inviting us to take a closer look inward;
To examine our resistance and lean into the life you offer us.
Calling us to be courageous,
Even in the valley of the shadow of death
Because you are our protector.
Sitting down with us in our grief,
Weeping with us
Even though you have already put an end to death, mourning, crying, and pain.

Great Three-In-One,
Before us lies a journey we don’t want to take.

Give us the courage to take the first step.
Remind us again and again that we are not alone.
Surround us with your presence.

Grant us companions for the journey;
Friends who will listen to our complaints,
Confidants who will hear our speculation about what lies ahead without judgment,
Church family who will labor with us and laugh with us and cry with us, too,
Brothers and Sisters who will shine a light on the shadowy places so that we don’t have to fear.

Show us how to be good fellow travelers and
Teach us what is essential for the road ahead
So that your kingdom might be made on earth as it is in heaven,
even as we journey.

Amen.

Brittany Stillwell Krebs serves as the minister of music and youth at First Baptist Church in Memphis, Tenn. 


Browse Our Archives