Closed For Regrowth

Last year around this time I did not really recognize myself.

My perspective was off. I was tired. I was beat up. So I did what I always do and went on a trip. 

It was already in the plans, but the timing seemed too good to be true. Maybe it’s that I try to continually have an excursion to look forward to on the calendar. Or maybe God knew when I booked the plane tickets months before that I would need an adventure come August. 

Either way He has used this pattern regularly to reaffirm some things in my life.

Clueless as to His purposes for this week, I had planned for the trip to consist mostly of a bucket list hike and trying to find decent surf with storms approaching southern California. Not because I am a good surfer, but because my companion was. 

I hopped on a plane with my best friend, with water packs and wetsuits in tow, and we headed west. 

We were met by warm weather and a warm welcome from friends who hosted us that night. Hugs all around. Carne Asada on the grill and Modelos in the cooler. We spent that night in Rancho Cucamonga looking up at the peak we would tackle the next day. 

I think that this was when my status was confirmed. I should have been excited, but I wasn’t. I knew deep down that a healthy version of myself would be able to relish the anticipation like Christmas eve or driving out to the deer lease early on opening day. But I couldn’t. 

My body was at the base of Mount Baldy. My brain was back in Mississippi. The problems that I had left didn’t have conclusive solutions and so I couldn’t allow myself to swipe the Do Not Disturb slide on my phone or my mind. Really, I was pretty frequently disturbed. 

I wanted to be available should someone need me. Looking back, I know that the truth was that my availability was killing me. Call it pride or codependence, either way I needed to be needed. 

Thank God for altitude and poor cell reception. 

I’m not saying that LTE is of the devil, but I do know that there is a certain amount of freedom that comes with being unreachable. Before I knew it the only noise that was left could be attributed to our own climbing and conversation. 

I was a pastor for years. I was basically paid to be a Chrsitian. It seems so sad looking back that I had such an aversion to silence and solitude. I had surrendered to the misconception that I was in the service industry and had neglected my own spiritual health because of it. 

I had been leading, but I hadn’t listened well in a long time. 

And then I saw it. 

Just before the treeline stopped. A revelation that would allow me to reinvent my perspective over the next week in California. 

A literal sign, I believe from God, that read: CLOSED FOR REGROWTH. 

Can you believe that?

Now, I’m not stupid. I understand that this was placed by a ranger in an effort to protect the area from hikers while it rebounded from a harsh winter. But, I also believe that small moments can have massive implications on our lives. 

Like Detective Jake Paralta famously said, “Stuff can be two things.” And it seemed clear that this sign was also there for me. 

We made it to the summit. We took our pictures. We hiked the Devil’s Backbone back down. We gorged ourselves on Spam Musubi when we got back to civilization. My phone stayed on Do Not Disturb. 

I spent the rest of this trip really reflecting on what life would look like once I returned home. I knew I couldn’t wait until the next trip to attend to myself. I wasn’t healthy and it was time to own up to that. I didn’t know what it would look like yet, but one thing was sure: I needed a place where I could be solely focused on my own regrowth. Even if it meant closing off general access for a time. 

I sought out a place where I could simply seek without serving. I showed up at the Hangar for the first time the next week. A place just for me. And over the last year I have been cared for by men who simply want to see me grow. 

That hike that set things in motion has been on my mind leading into our September Coaching Weekend. In many ways these events can feel a lot like climbing up above where the trees grow. It requires work and an intentional disconnection from life. 

My prayer for both the rookies and the alumni is that we would all lean into the relinquishing that is required for regrowth. The weekend is far from empty but it does come with barriers to distraction that we are not accustomed to. Allow yourself to disconnect so that you can connect. 

A passage that is often quoted on weekends like this is the famous Jeremiah 29:11. It’s used to reassure men that no matter what they have lived through, God has the intention of bringing about good. 

As we approach the event, allow yourself to digest the next two verses as well. 

 For I know the plans I have for you”—this is the Lord’s declaration—“plans for your well-being, not for disaster, to give you a future and a hope. You will call to me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. You will seek me and find me when you search for me with all your heart.

Jeremiah 29:11-13(CSB)

It’s true that God has good intentions for us. He hears us. He loves us.

But we bear some responsibility for the health of that relationship as well. And in that area of our lives, sometimes regrowth requires a short retreat from duty and distraction.