What to do when you find yourself looking back

Family legend has it that one Christmas Eve when I was very young, my grandfather, with a twinkle in his eye, informed us kids that we were going to the North Pole to get our presents. Without hesitating, I ran to get my coat, slipped my arms into it in record time, and was waiting at the door for everyone else to get ready for the wonder we were about to behold. 

Only no one else joined me at the door, and when my grandfather realized that I had taken his joke seriously, he just laughed and laughed. Years later, I still recall my excitement as I ran for my coat and waited to be swept away on a great adventure. 

Isn’t that what we wanted as kids? To be swept away on some grand adventure? To believe that the best possible life waited for us just around the bend? The future, much like a five-year-old’s idea of the North Pole, was full of possibilities. Of joy. Of hope. 

Time flies by, as it tends to do. And sometimes we find our heart strings taut with remembering. Pondering. Longing, even. Would that we could transport ourselves back to those days! At the time, of course, we had no idea that we were building core memories that we would spend the rest of our days unlocking. We had no clue how often or how fervently we would yearn to return to those childhood days. 

Then we have children, and they grow up. And we wax nostalgic for their childhoods. On the first day my daughter drove herself to school, I looked out the kitchen window (from where I was chopping vegetables; which, by the way, I would totally recommend to other mothers whose kids are driving themselves for the first time). 

There I was, trying so hard not to play all of Kendall’s childhood first-day-of-school memories in my head in slow motion. I was being productive. I was prepping for dinner.

Only as I chopped, I could see the bus arrive outside the kitchen window. And I watched a mother cup her young son’s face in her hands and give him some last-minute instructions before sending him off to school. I saw her wave goodbye to him as that big yellow bus pulled away. 

And I thought – and possibly even said aloud in my empty house – “You’ve got to be kidding me! I’m trying not to be sentimental here!” But at the same time, it was also pretty wonderful, in a Hallmark card kind of way. 

What do we do when we find ourselves looking back? I found an interesting thought on this in 2 Samuel 23:13-17:

During harvest time, three of the thirty chief warriors came down to David at the cave of Adullam, while a band of Philistines was encamped in the Valley of Rephaim. At the time David was in the stronghold, and the Philistine garrison was at Bethlehem. David longed for water and said, “Oh, that someone would get me a drink of water from the well near the gate at Bethlehem!” 

So the three mighty warriors broke through the Philistine lines, drew water from the well near the gate of Bethlehem and carried it back to David. But he refused to drink it; instead, he poured it out before the Lord. 

“Far be it from me, Lord, to do this!” He said. “Is it not the blood of men who went at the risk of their lives?” And David would not drink it.

I am studying 2 Samuel with Community Bible Study (CBS), and this was a part of my lesson recently. And the discussion question was, What might the men have learned from David’s response?

For the life of me, I couldn’t figure out the answer to this question. I was baffled as to why David asked for water, and then when the men brought it to him, refused it. If I were one of those men, I may have been upset that I risked my life to get David that water, and he didn’t even drink it.

That’s why I loved reading this thought in the CBS Commentary:  It may not have been that David was thirsty as much as that he longed for a reminder of his boyhood home. 

Instantly, I was hooked on this idea. Little David, the youngest boy who watched the sheep and ran errands for his father. The David who killed Goliath. The David who led armies. The David who wrote beautiful psalms. King David, God’s anointed one, may have longed for his childhood? If so, then you and I are in good company when we also long for a simpler time. 

The CBS Commentary explains the fact that David poured out the water like this:  He was so humbled by their daring action that he poured out the water before the Lord as an offering to God instead of a taste of home for himself. 

He poured it out. He longed for the water of his childhood – pure, uncomplicated, satisfying, refreshing. But when he had the chance to taste this water, he poured it out to God. How beautiful is this? What a picture for us as we journey through our own seasons and lives! We can long for the good old days, but then we can pour those yearnings out before God. For God is the author of all of our days. And He is near to all who call on Him (Psalm 145:18).

I love Psalm 139 in any translation, but particularly in The Message. And yes, this psalm was written by David. Notice how confident David is that God knows him fully and therefore cares enough to listen.

God, investigate my life; get all the facts firsthand. I’m an open book to you; even from a distance, you know what I’m thinking. You know when I leave and when I get back; I’m never out of your sight. You know everything I’m going to say before I start the first sentence.

I look behind me and you’re there, then up ahead and you’re there, too – your reassuring presence, coming and going. This is too much, too wonderful – I can’t take it all in!

Is there any place I can go to avoid your Spirit? To be out of your sight? If I climb to the sky, you’re there! If I go underground, you’re there! If I flew on morning’s wings to the far western horizon, You’d find me in a minute – you’re already there waiting! (vs. 1-10).

Because David was sure that God heard him as he lamented, David just laid it all out there. Another example is Psalm 142:1-3a,7:

I cry aloud to the Lord; I lift up my voice to the Lord for mercy. I pour out before him my complaint; before him I tell my trouble.

When my spirit grows faint within me, it is you who watch over my way . . . . Set me free from my prison, that I may praise your name. Then the righteous will gather about me because of your goodness to me.

When we pour out our hearts to God, He sets us free from the prison of wishing to be anywhere but here. He tunes our hearts to recognize the beauty of right now.

In yet another psalm by David, he uses these words again:  Trust in him at all times, you people; pour out your hearts to him, for God is our refuge (Psalm 62:8). 

If King David could pour out his heart to God, so can you and I. And if God was his refuge, He can be ours too. As those memories and longings surface, we have a place to take them. As we pour them out before God in prayer, I believe God accepts these offerings of ours. Even more, I believe He replaces those empty places in our hearts with gratitude for His faithfulness.

Your love, Lord, reaches to the heavens, your faithfulness to the skies. Your righteousness is like the highest mountains, your justice like the great deep. You, Lord, preserve both people and animals. How priceless is your unfailing love, O God! People take refuge in the shadow of your wings. They feast on the abundance of your house; you give them drink from your river of delights. For with you is the fountain of life; in your light we see light (Psalm 36:5-9).