Billions of greeting cards are bought each year. The senders fondly express an impossibility: “We wish you a happy New Year” (or birthday, or anniversary). Significant in these greetings is the word “wish”. Happiness will always remain on the wish list; a dream, if not impossible, then certainly so fleeting as to be insignificant. No one can actually grant the wish.
Consider the parallel of defining the Loch Ness Monster. There are fuzzy pictures and dubious sightings. These indicate that something may exist, but there is strong doubt as to whether it exists merely in beery imagination or in actuality.
When folk describe happiness, it is invariably connected with an emotional state. It is the feeling that arises from:
not being haunted by the past,
not being worried about financial or bodily security in the present,
not being fearful about the future.
But emotions are as fickle and changeable as politicians on campaign. They arise from some unknown inner recess of the psyche and disappear as quickly as a paycheck. Happiness is therefore as shy and elusive as the Loch Ness Monster.
One sure way of achieving an emotional high on a permanent basis would be by purchasing a time-share in the local cemetery. People who are permanently euphoric are generally found in asylums. Yet when reading or talking about happiness, a distinction between “happiness” and “true happiness” soon creeps into the discussion. This illustrates the problem very nicely: how do we distinguish between the two?
And what shall we say about people who live with vicious memories of past atrocities, stare death in the face daily, and have no security because they are refugees, yet still appear to be supremely happy?
The answer is that happiness, the number one quest of the human race, is a chasing after the wind. Billions of dollars are spent annually pursuing what is largely an illusion. Advertisements picture people made happy by the products on display. Like the great migration of gnus across the African plain, people follow the notion that happiness can be had if only they were slimmer, more tanned, drove a fancier car, smoked a different brand, or had more money in the bank. Quacks promising health and wealth flourish no less than their snake-oil forefathers in the Wild West.
How strange then that most people equate the word “happy” with “Blessed”, the word used to introduce each Beatitude.
The reality remains that happiness is as inaccessible as Mars and just as barren.
Next up: If happiness is little more than a passing emotional weather pattern, then the Beatitudes are either cruel mockery or they are speaking about something entirely different. Jesus calls the poor in spirit, the mourning, the persecuted, and the meek “Blessed.” Whatever He meant, it plainly had nothing to do with the modern pursuit of happiness. The next question therefore becomes unavoidable: what did the word actually mean?
Full disclosure: I use AI as IA (Intelligent Assistant). And no, I am not dyslexic. All the words and ideas are mine alone. I prompt it to smooth the flow, check the logic and check for redundancy. I also use AI for infographics.
The Beatitudes Derivation: each statement begins with “Blessed are…”, derived from the Latin word for blessed, beatus. “Favoured by God; enjoying divine grace.
Next up: Blessed! A Word Recaptured! I examine the profound biblical origins of the word “blessed,” The modern use of ‘bless’ has been hyper-inflated, like money in hyper inflation, stripping the word of its original value.
Mount Everest continues to rise about ¼ inch (5 mm) a year due to a massive, ongoing “tectonic smashup” between two tectonic plates: the Indian Plate and the Eurasian Plate. The region is prone toJustification by faith is more than a doctrine; it is a seismic event. It is the moment human effort is swallowed up by divine grace. continuing earthquakes. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z4WLHIUU2uU&t=7s
Justification by faith is a tectonic smashup between the grace of God and human arrogance. This contrast is clearly surfaced in the difficulties in prayer: unanswered as well as answers not to my agenda. (Habakkuk:1-2:5) Human arrogance demands God do what an arrogant human desires. (The many who testify they tested God and he failed them highlight the matter.) Specifically 2:4 “Look at that man, bloated by self-importance— full of himself but soul-empty. But the person in right standing before God through loyal and steady believing is fully alive, really alive.” (The Message)
Paul and the Shock Within Judaism
Paul was a Pharisee of the Pharisees, indicating a brand of fussy obedience that was all enveloping. Friendship with God cannot be earned. It is offered as a gift to be accepted. The obverse side to this coin is a pernicious human perception that God requires performance for acceptance. Here is an historical trajectory of the performance model: The Torah, the five books attributed to Moses, were analyzed to contain 613 commandments. The Talmud (which came after Paul) demonstrates where this led: a 63-volume “instruction manual” that explains the 613 details in depth. It is like the tax code of the USA” The “page count” of the U.S. tax code is a moving target because it depends entirely on whether you are looking at the literal laws passed by Congress or the massive library of regulations required to actually follow those laws.As of 2026, here is the breakdown of the length of the tax code:If you only count the actual Internal Revenue Code (Title 26 of the U.S. Code) as published by the government, it is approximately 6,800 to 7,000 pages.
Paul recognized that it was impossible to be scrupulous enough. His discovery that God declared a person righteous, or justified, based on faith in the doing and dying of Jesus in his place, was a tectonic shift with continuing impact. Harking back to the revelation made to Habakkuk, he found that accepting the gift of God, offered freely, was pivotal in friendship with God. Mount Everest, after all, is still rising!
Luther and the Shock Within the Church
More than a thousand years later, the same idea shook Europe.
The medieval church had developed a complex system of penance, sacramental participation, and religious effort. Many believers lived with deep anxiety about whether they had done enough to satisfy God’s perfection. All who were sincere in seeking God lived with quiet anxiety: had they done enough to satisfy God’s perfection?
Martin Luther certainly tried. Reflecting on his years as a monk, he wrote, “If ever a monk got to heaven by monkery, I should have been that monk.”
Despite his scrupulous observance, he was wracked by doubt. He thought a pilgrimage to The Holy City would resolve his crisis of faith. Luther ascended the 28 marble steps (which tradition says were the steps Jesus climbed to face Pontius Pilate) on his knees. On each individual step, he stopped to recite the “Our Father” (Pater Noster) and, according to some accounts, kissed the steps where he believed he saw stains of Christ’s blood. Instead of feeling the spiritual peace or “certainty” he expected, he reportedly stood up and thought (or whispered), “Who knows if it is true?” Maybe God requires a 100 steps, and/or a Pater Noster and a Hail Mary on each step? How do we satisfy perfection?
While teaching the Epistle to the Romans, Luther came to understand that righteousness before God was not something earned but something given through faith. This realization became the shock that led to the Protestant Reformation. The chain from Habakkuk to Paul gained another link,
The discovery of “justification by faith” brought profound personal relief to Luther and soon spread across Europe. This shift was a geopolitical seismic event: when the established Church in Rome collided with these simplified Biblical truths, the resulting “shockwaves” permanently fractured the monolithic religious landscape, forcing a complete reordering of the map of Europe.
Wesley and the Shock of Methodism Two centuries later, the same truth again changed a life—with far-reaching consequences.
John Wesley devoted himself to rigorous discipline and the pursuit of holiness. Yet he lacked assurance about his standing with God. That insecurity was exposed during his 1735 voyage to Georgia.
Mid-Atlantic, a storm so violent struck, that even the experienced sailors were terrified.. Waves crashed over the deck, sails tore apart, and passengers panicked, certain they would die. Wesley, though a devout Anglican priest, found himself afraid—without the calm confidence he thought he possessed.
In stark contrast, a group of Moravians calmly sang hymns through the chaos. When Wesley later asked if they had been afraid, their answer was simple: they were not—even their children faced death without fear.
The moment unsettled him deeply. Wesley realized he had religion, but not assurance. His faith was disciplined and sincere, yet lacked the settled trust he saw in them.
The storm did not convert him, but it destabilized him in the best way. It forced a question he could no longer avoid: did he truly trust God, or merely practice religion?
On May 24, 1738, while listening to Luther’s commentary on Romans, Wesley felt his “heart strangely warmed.” He came to trust in Christ alone for salvation.
That shift transformed his preaching. Its impact spread rapidly, helping spark a national awakening. Some historians even suggest it played a role in England avoiding a revolution like France’s.
The Shock in America The same doctrine ignited the First Great Awakening in eighteenth-century America.
Preachers like George Whitefield and Jonathan Edwards confronted a comfortable assumption: that being right with God came through birth, baptism, or respectable behavior. For many, religion had become little more than inherited custom. Justification, they insisted, comes by faith alone—not by family background, moral effort, or outward religion. A person is made right with God only through a personal, inward trust in Jesus Christ.
Whitefield called people to the “new birth,” pressing for inner transformation rather than external reform. Edwards argued that true religion consists of “holy affections”—a heart genuinely reshaped by love for God. Faith, in their preaching, was not mere agreement, but deep reliance.
This shifted Christianity from cultural assumption to personal encounter. It unsettled the self-assured, yet opened the door to all: anyone could be reconciled to God through faith.
Removing the Bottleneck The Awakening didn’t just change the message—it changed how it spread.
Before the revivals, preaching was largely confined to ordained clergy, creating a natural bottleneck. Growth was slow, limited by how many ministers could be trained and installed.
But if faith is personal, then testimony becomes universal. Those who experienced new life began to speak of it. The result was explosive: the rise of lay preaching.
Methodists and Circuit Riders John Wesley’s decision to authorize lay preachers multiplied the movement overnight. Circuit riders carried the message across vast distances—on horseback, in fields, homes, and frontier settlements—spreading Methodism far beyond the reach of traditional structures.
The Baptist Grassroots Model The Baptists, with their emphasis on local leadership and personal testimony, were already positioned for this shift. Lay preaching fit naturally. Ordinary people with a clear conversion and a gift for speaking could lead, enabling rapid growth across the South and West.
Lay preaching didn’t just support the revival—it fueled it. The message created transformed people; lay preaching turned them into messengers. Together, they reshaped the American religious landscape.
The Personal Shock
The impact of justification by faith is not only historical; it is deeply personal.
In the Epistle to the Romans, Paul writes: “Therefore, since we have been justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ.”
The passage continues through Romans 5:1–12, describing the remarkable results of justification: peace with God, access to God, hope, and glory in suffering, and the assurance of reconciliation, all made real in the power of the Holy Spirit.
For countless individuals throughout history, these words have brought profound relief. The fear of never being good enough is replaced with the confidence that acceptance with God rests on Christ’s work rather than human effort.
A Message That Continues to Change Lives
From the revelation to Habakkuk, Paul’s proclamation in the first century, Luther’s rediscovery in the Reformation, to Wesley’s awakening of heart, the doctrine of justification by faith has repeatedly brought renewal.
It reminds us that the foundation of the Christian life is not human achievement but divine grace.
And whenever that message is rediscovered, it has the power to transform both history and the human heart.
What’s In It For Me?
“Revived” medically speaking, is a miracle – a dead body is brought back to life. That, in a spiritual sense, is what happens when someone trusts in Christ. Baptism mirrors this miracle. We are baptized or initiated into His death and Resurrection. It can be compared to a marriage ceremony where the parties say“I do”. “I do” must not be construed as “I did it!” -as if the ceremony was the conclusion. it IS a done deed, but with the promise to keep up at it, loving, honoring, tending,
And that is a description of revival. It begins when you say “I do” to Jesus. That “first love” needs constant renewal, or revival. Each time we feel distant, the way back is to say “I do” in response to God’s question
Say “I do” now! Maybe for the first time. Maybe for the hundredth time. It is a process of falling in love, growing in love and staying in love.
I once had the terrifying experience of getting lost in Minsk, Belorussia.. With rising panic, I tried to retrace my steps, but nothing registered. No one spoke English and people shrugged then ignored me when I asked for help, the signs were all in Cyrillic, the phone booths were stripped of equipment, bare wires protruding and smelling of urine. I felt doomed until, in entirely the wrong direction according to my perceptions, I saw the monument outside the metro station where I disembarked every morning on my way to teaching at The International Leadership Academy. The recognition of that landmark was the critical turning point that allowed me to reorient myself.Habakkuk 1:12–17 presents a crisis that every pilgrim eventually faces. It isn’t just that God is silent; it’s that His actions feel hostile—even evil. Habakkuk looks at the brutal Babylonians and anguishes over the mystery. “Why do You stand idly by while the wicked swallow up those more righteous than they?”
Pilgrims are disoriented by the mysterious ways of God, impacting their mindset and the trajectory of their lives. Pull out of the flow of alarmed thought, and switch your bewildered focus from the circumstances to God.
Habakkuk 1:12–17 presents a crisis that every pilgrim eventually faces. It isn’t just that God is silent; it’s that His actions feel hostile—even evil. Habakkuk looks at the brutal Babylonians and anguishes over the mystery. “Why do You stand idly by while the wicked swallow up those more righteous than they?”
Pilgrims are disoriented by the mysterious ways of God, impacting their mindset and the trajectory of their lives. Pull out of the flow of alarmed thought, and switch your bewildered focus from the circumstances to God.
Stop! Look for a Landmark!
Notice Habakkuk’s focus on God as Holy. “Lord, are you not from everlasting? My God, my Holy One, you will never die.”
The “Sun-ness” of God: Holy means Distinct
To reorient, we must understand God as our landmark, specifically His holiness. Think of the difference between a drawing of the sun and the actual sun. You can look at a sketch, touch the paper, and understand its shape. But you cannot “touch” the sun; its heat, power, and brilliance would vaporise you long before you made contact.
Holiness is God’s “sun-ness.” He is not just a better version of us; He is a different kind of being entirely. However, this “otherness” does not mean He is inaccessible. Like the sun, God is too great to be controlled, but He is also too present to be ignored. The sun is 93 million miles away, yet its “sun-ness” is exactly what allows it to reach across the vacuum of space to sustain life. His transcendence (being above us) is precisely what makes His immanence (being with us) possible.
When you are lost you must find a landmark that is fixed. Because God is “Holy”—the “Sun-ness” outside of our creation—He is the only truly fixed point. When Habakkuk stood on his watchtower, he didn’t look at the Babylonian army to find his peace; he looked at the “Sun-ness” of God.
To use this landmark:
Acknowledge: Accept that you cannot understand the “why” of every event. God begins where our data collection ends.
Trust: Even when you can’t feel the heat, the “Sun-ness” of God remains.
Reorient: Use His attributes to determine your position. If God is eternal, this crisis is temporary.
Distinct not Distant – The Personal Name: YHWH
“O LORD,” says Habakkuk. That is the personal name that God revealed to Moses when he tried to dodge going to tell Pharaoh, an absolute despot with no accountability, to let “my people go.” LORD (YHWH) describes His activity: “I am present as always,” available 24/7 with full attention. Unlike a human gatekeeper who might deny access, God’s attention is always full because His holiness tells us He is different.
Affirm these personal landmarks:
He is “LORD”. (YHWH)
He is “MY God”: A personal pronoun; respond to the personal invitation.
He is”my GOD“: The Hebrew word means “Almighty Creator”.
He is “Eternal”: He is outside the ebb and flow of history.
He is “Our Rock”: A firm foundation – a refuge outside of the debris flow.
The Voice That Sustains the Weary
Isaiah 50 addresses the darkness from the perspective of the Servant—the voice that sustains the weary. This is not the rehearsed art of an orator; it is a voice that carries weight because the speaker is literally nailed to a cross in the darkness.
During the unnatural night of the crucifixion, Jesus cries out in anguish: “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” Yet, after that cry of abandonment eventually comes the calm, trusting voice of faith: “Into Your hands I commend my spirit.”
Jesus acts as the bridge between the “Sun-ness” of God and our human frailty. Just as the atmosphere allows us to experience the sun’s light without being consumed by its raw heat, He is the “radiance of God’s glory”—the brilliance of the sun brought down to eye level. He absorbed the darkness so that we might walk in the light.
When you find yourself in the “pitch-black room” of a personal crisis, the natural instinct is to scramble for a flashlight—to fix the problem, find an answer, or force a resolution. But Isaiah offers a different strategy for the pilgrim: Stay.
Staying Upon YHWH – Leaning against a Rock
Staying is not a sign of defeat; it is a tactical choice of focus. It is the refusal to let the chaos of the immediate “alarmed thoughts” drown out the reality of the fixed landmarks. By orienting yourself toward the “Sun-ness” of God, you recognize that while you are currently in the shadow, the Sun itself has not moved, dimmed, or changed.
You are leaning against a Rock that is higher than the debris flow. You are listening to a Voice that has already navigated the deepest darkness and emerged with a calm, commendatory faith.
If you are walking in darkness, stay upon God until the sun rises. For the pilgrim, the morning is not just a possibility; because of who God is, it is an absolute certainty, the one and only sure thing in a changing world.
The Babylonians still invade. Jerusalem was sacked. Captivity lasted seventy years.
But Habakkuk, as we shall see, was not sighing anymore, after seeing, he began singing.
Overlooking the North Rim of the Grand Canyon, the setting sun casting shadows in shades of cobalt and indigo, accentuating the crags and crevices with a fleeting, golden splendor, I heard an exhilarated cry: “We made it!”
A group had just arrived from the South Rim—a grueling, 11-hour trek across the heart of the canyon. I was instantly hooked. My gracious wife agreed to drive to our South Rim reservation, and I would hike the canyon.
Comparing routes on a map, the decision seemed like a no-brainer – the North Kaibab Trail was four miles shorter than the Bright Angel Trail. Looking back, it wasn’t a “no-brainer” — it was a case of “no brain.”
The Descent and the Warning
The descent to Phantom Ranch was magical, even mystical — the 14-mile drop of 6,000 feet was sheer delight – awe and wonder every step of the way. However, I was met with a sobering sign. In foot-high letters, it warned hikers not to take the Kaibab ascent lightly. My internal translation: “Don’t be an idiot. This might kill you.”
The plan was pre-arranged ans I was committed. I set off and the song in my heart soon became a groan. Those final seven miles took seven grueling hours.
I crested the rim as a different person, and the canyon was no longer just a postcard; it was an experience etched into my psyche.
From Place to Purpose
A pilgrim has a destination in mind, but along the way, a transformation occurs. The destination becomes a destiny — the deeper purpose a person grows into through calling, formation, and faithful response. It is a shift from “getting there” to “becoming the kind of person who belongs there.”
What exactly is our destination? For the pilgrim, the destination is to know the will of God. – “Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewal of your mind, that by testing you may discern what is the will of God, what is good and acceptable and perfect.”
1 The Incidental Will of God
We naturally crave to know God’s will for our daily decisions. These are “incidental”. A passenger once asked a boat captain how he navigated a treacherous harbor entrance so unerringly.
“You see those three lights?” the captain replied. “I align my ship up until all three are in a single row. That alignment shows me the safe channel.”
Navigating the tricky waters of the journey requires alignment. Think of these Three Harbor Lights as your markers:
Circumstances: A true harbor light isn’t a door we kick down; it’s a path that clears as we walk in obedience.
Scripture: is the fixed light that never shifts. If a “circumstance” seems to lead toward something God prohibits, the lights are out of alignment. We don’t need a new sign when we already have a clear command.
Wise Counsel: In the heat of the journey, we often have “trail blindness” — choosing a shorter route because it looks faster on a map. Wise counsel provides the perspective of those who have walked these miles before us.
2 The Primary Will of God
Our ultimate destination is Heaven. However, the pilgrimage is about more than just a future arrival; it is about character formation en route. We seek to know God now so that Heaven, being face to face with God, is current enjoyment.
Paul prays for a “complete knowledge of His will. “The word for “know” used here—epignosis—is a composite word made up of the intensifier epi (think “epic”) joined to the verb “to know.” It is an intense, experiential, epic knowledge. It is the difference between reading a map of the Grand Canyon and hiking the Canyon for yourself. .
When we know God as Guide, Encourager, and Mentor, we aren’t just waiting for a distant reward. We are being forged in real-time, changed into the image of Christ — not through a legalistic keeping of rules, but through a delightful relationship. As the Psalmist says, “The Lord makes firm the steps of the one who delights in him; though he may stumble, he will not fall, for the Lord upholds him with his hand” (Psalm 37:23-24).
This internal delight isn’t meant to be lived in a vacuum, in a quiet corner of spiritual isolation. On the contrary, when we truly delight in Him, it creates a spiritual centrifugal force. The closer we get to the center — the more we rotate around the heart of God — the more powerfully we are propelled outward into the lives of others, propelled by the centrifugal force of God’s love into the thick of daily life. Like Ambassadors, we represent the King wherever our incidental lives are lived — from the stress of the workplace to the long silence of a hospital ward. We don’t just point the way to a distant country; we bring the life of that country into the room with us. Your experiential encounter with God isn’t just for your benefit; a pilgrim is an Ambassador representing God. It is in this sense that the destination — becoming like Him — becomes your destiny.
The Profound Gift of Presence
Jesus promised that He would give the Holy Spirit to be with us in His stead; it is as simple as receiving the gift He pledged.
When offered a piece of essential, life-saving advice, you receive it simply, by saying ““Thank you.” The same is true here. All that is required of you is to remember His promise and respond with gratitude. Jesus said, “if we know how to give good gifts to our children, how much more will the Father give the Holy Spirit to those who ask Him?
Don’t overcomplicate it, remember the promise, and say, “Thank you.” Say it so often that gratitude becomes your routine response to life. Say thank You for all the joy, say thank You for all the sorrow.
We often think of the spiritual life as a pilgrimage—a steady, linear walk toward a distant horizon. But in 2 Timothy 2:6, the Apostle Paul startles with an arresting contrast: – the pilgrim is a farmer.
At first glance, these identities seem at odds. A pilgrim is always moving; a farmer is rooted in the soil.If you just looked at the surface, you’d say, “You can’t be both!” But by investigating that paradox, an essential perspective comes into view: – we are called to work hard in our neighborhood(Farmer) while never forgetting that we don’t belong to it (Pilgrim).
Cultivating the “In-Between”
The Pilgrim has his eyes fixed, laser-like, on the destination. But he is not so heavenly minded as to be of no earthly use.
Whether it’s our careers, our families, our character, or our community, we are called to plow, plant, and weed with intentionality.
Farming is cultivation of the art of waiting. The pilgrim knows the road is long; the farmer knows the growth is slow. Together, they create a soul that isn’t discouraged by a lack of immediate results.
Eating What You Plant
God promises a harvest in this life: “The hardworking farmer ought to be the first to receive a share of the crops.”
This is the secret to spiritual endurance. As you plant seeds of kindness, patience, and truth in the lives of others, you are the first one nourished by them. The “crop” we cultivate on our journey—peace and joy—is exactly what fuels us to keep walking the difficult Pilgrim way with joy.
Patient Endurance
Farmers work for a harvest they cannot see yet. Pilgrims walk toward a home they haven’t yet reached. The present harvest sustains and energizes the Pilgrim.
I once walked from the North Rim to the South rim of the Grand Canyon. I had a pint of water and the advice was to take a gallon. I was badly dehydrating, my mouth dry and my tongue swelling. I was alarmed by my situation. To my relief a ranger appeared and offered me his bottle of water laced with gatorade. It invigorated me in indescribable ways. I set out with renewed energy and gratitude, all my symptoms swallowed up. I was enabled to finish, and to finish strong.
The Lessons:
Grow something beautiful in the soil of today while you keep your eyes on the destination of tomorrow.
Be refreshed by the Ranger, the Holy Spirit, “Let anyone who is thirsty come to me and drink. Whoever believes in me, as Scripture has said, rivers of living water will flow from within them.” By this he meant the Spirit, whom those who believed in him were later to receive. (John 7:37-39 NIV)
The Pilgrim progresses with the disciplined mindset of a soldier
The Pilgrim masters the rules to travel with integrity and laser like focus
In the 1980 Boston Marathon, Rosie Ruiz crossed the finish line in record-breaking time. She was crowned the victor, draped in the traditional laurel wreath, and celebrated as a marvel of endurance. But the celebration was hollow. Within days, the truth emerged: Ruiz hadn’t run the race. She had slipped out of the crowd undetected by the marshals, and taken a subway to the final stretch, re-entering the course just in time to claim a prize for miles she never covered.
She had the title, but she lacked the integrity. By flouting the rules she demonstrated her lack of character.
The Pilgrim Progresses as an Athlete
Paul’s letter to Timothy warns us against this “subway spirituality.” He reminds us that the life of a pilgrim is not a scramble for status, but an athletic endeavor in which character counts. As Paul writes: “Follow the Lord’s rules for doing his work, just as an athlete either follows the rules or is disqualified and wins no prize” (2 Timothy 2:5, TLB).
To be a Pilgrim in Process is to realize that the shortcut is a lie. True victory is found in the three pillars of the athlete’s integrity.
Follow the Rules
The Two Trails: Why Discipline is a “Four-Wheel Drive” Experience
In the Kingdom, the “rules” aren’t a heavy slog under a whip; they are the practice of keeping in step with the Holy Spirit.
I recently took a father-son’s trip to Costa Rica to hike the trail to the Rio Celeste. Most folks take the busy tourist trail to see the
I recently took a father-son’s trip to Costa Rica to hike the trail to the Rio Celeste. Most folks take the busy tourist trail to see the famous blue waterfall, One views it from a platform and swimming is forbidden, A local tipped off my son about a trailhead a few miles down the road where you could actually swim.
That trail didn’t have a single soul on it. It started as a pleasant meander and then plunged—about 430 feet down a rocky, gnarlymess of a path. My two sons, worried about an octogenarian navigating those rocks, hovered over me like guardian angels. I eventually took a spill, gashing my knee and leaving a bit of skin as a “donation” to an obliging rock.”Dad, you want to turn back?” my younger son asked.
“Not on your nelly,” I told him. “I want to swim in that water.”
We made it down and had the joy of that cool blue water, but the ascent was where character was developed. My younger son took my hand to help me up. At first, it was just a regular hand-hold. Then, he insisted on locking our hold by grabbing one another by the wrist—a double-grip that ensured even if one of us weakened, the connection was solid. I joked that I finally had “four-wheel drive.”
Positive Mastery
The pilgrim faces sections of the trail similar that. Some rules are “negative”—watch your step, find a secure hold, move with caution. But the mastery Paul talks about is positive. Keeping in step with the Holy Spirit provides an exhilaration in the middle of the difficulty. He is the “heft” in the steep places and the “stability” on the slippery ones.
The disciplines of a happy communion with God—being instant in prayer, meditating on scripture, and serving my neighbor—aren’t heavy weights we carry. They are the energy for the ascent, providing lasting joy.
When we try to bypass the disciplines of faith, we arrive at life’s “finish lines” as cheats rather than genuine champions. We practice these disciplines because they are the only way to ensure that the person who reaches the summit is the person the Lord intended us to be—changed, and reflecting His image.
As the Spirit of the Lord works within us, providing that “four-wheel drive” power, we become more and more like Him. We aren’t just reaching a destination; we are being transformed from “glory to glory.”
“And all of us have had that veil removed so that we can be mirrors that brightly reflect the glory of the Lord. And as the Spirit of the Lord works within us, we become more and more like him and reflect his glory even more.” (2 Corinthians 3:18, The Living Bible)
Lawful Mastery: The Work of the Unseen Miles
There is a massive difference between just being active and achieving mastery. Paul speaks of the athlete competing “lawfully.” If you look at a marathon runner, you’ll see that mastery isn’t found on the day of the race under the roar of the crowd. It’s forged months earlier in the cold, gray silence of a 5:00 AM training run. It’s found in the discipline of a sensible diet and a regimen prescribed by those who know the way.
Mastery means honoring the “laws of growth” long before the prize is even in sight. It takes honesty to admit where your form is failing, and the humility to accept the guidance of “Coach Jesus.” It requires the patience to increase your mileage by inches rather than miles, doing the relentless hidden work that happens when no one is watching.
In the spiritual life, we often want the crown of maturity without the drudgery of the training ground. But the trail doesn’t lie. You cannot bypass the laws of growth and expect to finish the distance. True mastery is just a long string of honest, quiet choices made when it’s just you and God. It’s taking the “rules of the race” and living them out in the parts of your life that no one else ever sees. This is an internal attitude. It’s the recognition that our stature is built in those “unseen miles”—the moments of cultivated intimacy where we listen with the heart, instantly recognizing what displeases Him and correcting it right then and there.
No Shortcuts
The pursuit of comfort is the ultimate shortcut, and it is the enemy of integrity. A tourist seeks the easiest path, but a pilgrim embraces the grade. Taking a shortcut is really just an admission that you don’t believe the journey itself is worth the effort. Like that subway ride in Boston, a shortcut might get your body to the coordinates of the finish line, but it cannot give you the character God desires or the “glory” Paul speaks of.
You might reach the destination, but you won’t be the person the Lord intended for the summit. Mastery is the only way to ensure that when you finally stand at the end of the trail, you have the heart and the legs to be there.
The Fireside Reflection
Are you looking for a subway to the summit, or are you mastering the basics? The prize for the shortcut is always hollow and you can fool the crowd for a while, applause is meaningless. It is God’s approval that matters.
Your life is a process, either as a tourist vacantly gaping at attractions, or wandering bewildered through a foreign grocery store; or, as a determined pilgrim living with intentionality. Life is not a simple path from A to B. It is a winding, rocky ascent through fog and friction—a path defined not by the miles covered, but by the fortitude forged in the climb. To be a “Pilgrim in Process”—one genuinely committed to this path—requires more than forward movement; it demands an intentional internal posture.
In 2 Timothy 2:3-7 Paul admonishes his protege: “3 Take your share of suffering as a good soldier of Jesus Christ, just as I do; 4 and as Christ’s soldier, do not let yourself become tied up in worldly affairs, for then you cannot satisfy the one who has enlisted you in his army. 5 Follow the Lord’s rules for doing his work, just as an athlete either follows the rules or is disqualified and wins no prize. 6 Work hard like a farmer who gets paid well if he raises a large crop.7 Think over these three illustrations, and may the Lord help you to understand how they apply to you.” (Living Bible)
Let’s look at the metaphor of the soldier in this blog. (Paul gives us three distinct pictures of the pilgrim life: the Soldier, the Athlete, and the Farmer. While we will dive deep into the Athlete’s integrity and the Farmer’s patience in my next two posts, today we begin with the foundation: the resilience of the Soldier.”)
1. Embrace the Soldier’s Suffering
Pilgrim/Soldiers make the choice: discipline over the siren song of comfort. In a culture that worships ease, and equates happiness with wealth and power, a pilgrim understands that growth only happens at the edge of our capacity. We are not tourists on this path, ready to retreat at the first sign of trouble. We are, as the source notes remind us, “soldiers in a spiritual sense,” committed to the mission no matter the terrain. “This means accepting that a fixation on comfort acts as a barrier to progress—it encourages a slow slide into complacency and leaves our character fragile when the terrain inevitably turns rough.”
This willingness to ‘suffer’ through the rigors of discipline is not a call for self-punishment; it is the fundamental price of admission for achieving your destiny. And therefore it is not burdensome, but joyful. But this resilience is the engine, not the compass. It must be paired with a singular focus, which brings us to the second rule.
2. Stay Intentionally Unentangled
The second rule is to carry only what is essential for the journey. A tourist collects souvenirs; a pilgrim sheds weight. A pilgrim’s progress is immediately halted by the gravity of unnecessary burdens. Getting ‘entangled’ in the world’s distractions—the petty dramas, the fleeting pursuits, or even the ‘lawful’ but non-essential activities—will anchor you in place.
Progress requires doing things the “lawful way”—not just in a legal sense, but with a profound integrity and a disciplined focus that honors the mission. This is the art of strategic renunciation. By letting go of what doesn’t serve the journey, you gain the freedom and momentum to move with purpose. This singular focus clears the path, but a clear path is useless without a map.
3. Understand Your Place in the Ranks
The third rule is to recognize and respect the structure of the journey. Tourists wander where they please; pilgrims understand their part in the caravan. A true pilgrim is not like a sheep wandering aimlessly but is part of a larger body with a defined order. This means acknowledging the role of the “man of authority”—the leaders, mentors, or the “Undershepherd” who provides guidance—and even answering to a higher calling that serves as an internal compass.
“Stop measuring your life by the ease of the terrain or the miles you’ve logged. Measure it by the resolve you’ve built and the community you’ve kept. The fog will lift and the rocks will give way, but the fortitude you forge in the climb is yours forever. Keep walking. You are a Pilgrim in Process, and the path is exactly where you are meant to be.”
This is not a call for blind obedience, but for strategic alignment and teachability. Humility isn’t a weakness; it’s a strategic tool for accelerated learning. It allows you to absorb wisdom from those ahead, preventing costly errors and positioning you to contribute and, eventually, to lead. One must first know how to follow before one can ever hope to guide others.
Conclusion: The True Meaning of Destiny
“At the end of the day, we have to realize that these three postures—the Soldier, the Athlete, and the Farmer—aren’t just a checklist to complete. They are a trinity of principles that create the rhythm of the walk itself.
The Soldier’s Hardness is like your steady breath; it’s the grit to keep your feet moving when the trail gets steep and the air gets thin. Intentional Unentanglement is the lightness of your pack; it’s the constant work of making sure you aren’t carrying ‘stones’ from the world that only serve to slow you down. And finally, understanding your Place in the Ranks is your compass. It’s the humble recognition that you are following a path blazed by those who went before you, ensuring that all your disciplined, focused energy is actually leading you in the right direction.
When these three things click, the ‘process’ stops being a burden and starts being the way we find our destiny.”
They are the internal architecture required to see the journey through to its end. The goal is not aimless wandering but focused accomplishment. We are here to discern our purpose and then do the work to finish it.
To know God’s will. To accomplish it — that is destiny and only that.
What is one thing you can do today to shift from being a tourist to a pilgrim on your own journey?
Coming Next in the Series:”
Part 2:The Athlete’s Integrity — Why the ‘Process’ matters more than the ‘Podium’.
Part 3:The Farmer’s Patience — How to work when you can’t see the harvest yet.
Make sure to subscribe to the blog and my YouTube channel so you don’t miss the next leg of the journey.
Since the adoption of the absurd proposition that there are no absolutes and that truth is relative – (try arguing with your bank manager that you really are not in the red because that is HIS truth, not yours; or the judge that the stop sign you ignored was the cops truth, not your truth), – since that lie became the standard operating principle of society, morality has become meaningless. For example, sexual predators get elected into high office, corruption is standard practice, liars cannot be held accountable and the human race has started the descent into complete anarchy.
The Bible nails it! Eugene Petersen (The Message) paraphrases Romans 1 in such a way that the 2000 year insight is like a polar vortex that reaches through the centuries:
But God’s angry displeasure erupts as acts of human mistrust and wrongdoing and lying accumulate, as people try to put a shroud over truth. … What happened was this: People knew God perfectly well, but when they didn’t treat him like God, refusing to worship him, they trivialized themselves into silliness and confusion so that there was neither sense nor direction left in their lives. They pretended to know it all, but were illiterate regarding life. …
… So God said, in effect, “If that’s what you want, that’s what you get.” It wasn’t long before they were living in a pigpen, smeared with filth, filthy inside and out. And all this because they traded the true God for a fake god, and worshiped the god they made instead of the God who made them—the God we bless, the God who blesses us. Oh, yes!
Since they didn’t bother to acknowledge God, God quit bothering them and let them run loose. And then all hell broke loose: rampant evil, grabbing and grasping, vicious backstabbing. They made life hell on earth with their envy, wanton killing, bickering, and cheating. Look at them: mean-spirited, venomous, fork-tongued God-bashers. Bullies, swaggerers, insufferable windbags! They keep inventing new ways of wrecking lives.
Sigh, The most frightening thing is that in many “christian” quarters this behavior is lauded and mimicked. Lord have mercy.
Last night our dishwasher sprang a leak and the kitchen floor was filmed with water. I attempted to shut the water supply off under the sink, but the valve had calcified and it was immoveable. I attempted to control the situation by spraying it with WD 40. I thought it was loosening and applied more pressure with a spanner. The shaft of the valve sheared right off and water started spraying under the sink. I dashed for the main water supply and shut it off. But it too has calcified and all my efforts reduced the water to a trickle that I cannot remedy. Many times events have spiralled out of my control. Sometimes the outcome was pleasant, and at other times beyond belief catastrophic.
In an idle moment, renowned National Geographic photographer Pete McBride, lounging on a couch, suggested to journalist Kevin Fedarko that they do a thru-hike of the Grand Canyon. “It will be a walk in the park” he maintained. Thru-hiking the Grand Canyon is daunting even to veteran hikers and requires intensive planning and massive support with food caches at strategic points. It is not for the faint hearted. Fortunately the thru-hiking community saw through their amateur status and stepped up in support. Even so, Fedarko came to this conclusion, that is applicable to all of life:
“Sooner or later, every difficult journey collides against a moment that crystallizes the imperative of accepting that the outcome of any ambitious undertaking can neither be ordained nor engineered by its participants, and that the heart of an odyssey is reached-and its deeper truths begin to reveal themselves—only after the illusion of control is permitted to fall away and disappear into the gathering night, like a loose pebble over a cliff.”
Kevin Fedarko. “A Walk in the Park”.
Searching for God is an unimaginably daunting and ambitious undertaking. God says of Himself, “I am the high and holy One who Inhabits eternity.” “Holy” in the Bible means other-than, God is “different” to mortal flesh and blood. That is, he is outside of space and time. Where all our scientific data end, that is where He dwells. To know Him requires handing Him control, or, to state the obvious, trusting Him. Some are content with a shallow self indulgent search and abandon the journey at the first obstacles.
Read the sentence again.
“. . . the imperative of accepting that the outcome of any ambitious undertaking can neither be ordained nor engineered by its participants, and that the heart of an odyssey is reached-and its deeper truths begin to reveal themselves.”
Job discovered this – he lost everything, property, livestock, family, and finally his health. He searches for God to hold Him accountable for all this suffering. And finally God shows up and reveals His Highness and His Holiness: This new perspective brings Job to confess, “I had heard of you, but now my eyes have seen you.” The ocean depths have been little explored because of the difficulties involved. God has depths that no mortal can fathom, no equipment is available and His purposes go beyond our understanding.
What shall we do?
1 Peter 5:6-7: “Humble yourselves, therefore, under the mighty hand of God so that at the proper time he may exalt you, casting all your anxieties on him, because he cares for you.”.
“The proper time” is not something we like to hear. Yet to reach the deeper truths, we must give up control, “casting all our care on Him.”
Soldiers who suffered together have a special bond that only they understand and share between themselves. God suffers too and draws into just such a special bond. Every tear that humans have shed formed in God’s eye first. Suffering takes us to a special place in God’s suffering heart.
“Proper time” has another dimension – the other dimension involves your exaltation. Trust changes the perspective of suffering from self-pity to contentment.
The other dimension is an exalted view of God, and exalted experience of God, an exalted place in eternity with God.
“I can’t breathe!” I gasped to friends at the funeral of my grandson Geoffrey. The pressure in my chest felt unbearable. That constriction of the heart pressing on the diaphragm is true of all grieving.
Ioana Hociota, was married to Andrew Holycross. They were doing the challenging Grand Canyon thru-hike, a traverse from North to South through remote unmarked back country, when she slipped on a patch of ice and fell to her death. Kevin Fedarko makes an observation that is an essential aspect of grieving – – eventually a space will open up in the constricted heart.
“In the days immediately following Hociota’s death, he (Holycross) had formed an intense hatred toward the canyon for having taken her from him—a feeling that festered for weeks, until eventually, despite his best efforts, its grip slowly began to loosen. Eventually, with the passage of time, somewhere inside his heart a space opened in which he was able to revisit the memories of the times they had spent and the things they had done together in the world beneath the rims. And as his love for the landscape returned to him, with it came the possibility that he might consider allowing himself to return to the land.” (Kevin Fedarko. “A Walk in the Park”)
Some advised me, “Time will bring healing.” I thought to myself, “I do not want to be healed. I want to remember him, I want to honor him. I need to feel raw.” Job’s friends did the right thing: “11 When three of Job’s friends heard of the tragedy he had suffered, they got together and traveled from their homes to comfort and console him. . . . 13 Then they sat on the ground with him for seven days and nights. No one said a word to Job, for they saw that his suffering was too great for words.” (Job 2)
I rushed to the hospital the instant I heard a good friend’s 6 year old died. His best friend arrived soon after and asked me before entering the room, “What do I say?” I replied, “He will not remember what you said. He will remember you came. Just hug him.”
“Today was a Difficult Day,” said Pooh.
There was a pause.
“Do you want to talk about it?” asked Piglet.
“No,” said Pooh after a bit. “No, I don’t think I do.”
“That’s okay,” said Piglet, and he came and sat beside his friend.
“What are you doing?” asked Pooh.
“Nothing, really,” said Piglet. “Only, I know what Difficult Days are like. I quite often don’t feel like talking about it on my Difficult Days either.
“But goodness,” continued Piglet, “Difficult Days are so much easier when you know you’ve got someone there for you. And I’ll always be here for you,
How did God react?
Isaiah 41:10: “So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.”
I rushed to the hospital the instant I heard a congregant’s 6 year old died. His best friend arrived soon after and asked me before entering the room, “What do I say?” I replied, “He will not remember what you said. He will remember you came. Just hug him.”
God’s Reassurance
I have called you by name; you are mine. 2 When you go through deep waters, I will be with you. When you go through rivers of difficulty, you will not drown. Isaiah 43)
Take heart, grieving friends, space will open up, life will resume, and the raw wound will develop a beautiful scar as a constant and visible reminder of a deeply loved one; anguish will soften as joyful memories begin to replace bewilderment.
An earthquake changed the landscape, it will never be the same, but there will be a different beauty will emerge from the ravished land.
progressingpeople 