When one of the wonderful people from our former church emailed me, I was trying to answer and explain how I felt, and I came up with what I believe is a near perfect metaphor.
I feel like I set out on an expedition several years ago. I wanted to get to the top of a very big mountain. I joined up with a team of people, and we were going to make it to the top because we believed that by getting to the top, there would be a beautiful view.
Every few months one of the people on the team would start to doubt what the view was going to be like, but we’d talk them through it and explain, that if we could just get there, the view would be great. There were times when we were in a little danger, but we convinced ourselves that the view from the top would be worth it. If we just kept pushing forward, kept moving ahead, we’d get there and we’d be oh so glad we hung in there.
There were times when we would almost give up, but we were still relatively healthy, we had the supplies we needed -- sure, we’d fall and lose ground sometimes, or have to stop and rest, but the top of the mountain still was still urging us to get there and see the view.
And then we get to the last part of the trip. We can almost see the top. We are so close and we’ve made so much progress. But the team is tired and worn out. The terrain is dangerous and steep. It’s cold and rocky. And there are storms brewing.
My co-captain has decided that the top may be a trick, and there may be no view, or maybe even just more mountain. Some of the team members have given up as well. Others are in danger of being physically hurt or even dying if we finish the trip.
Willing to sacrifice my own health because I really want to see the view from there, I trudge forward, but very few members of the team are able to come along. I realize that if I turn back, there will be no second chance. There will be no second expedition on this particular mountain. If we don’t get to the top this time, we’ll never see it.
But I take time to look around and I realize that if we don’t give up, everyone else will suffer. Their safety must come before my desire to make it to the top of that particular mountain. The truth is, that they all need their strength to climb their own mountains, and I will have to climb theirs with them as well. And many of them do have the potential to make it to the top of theirs. And that view will be spectacular as well.
And so I finally nod, and we slowly turn around and head back home. The view I hoped for, I will never see. I know I made the right decision, but I am plagued and haunted by the visions I had about that view.
It will be a long walk back down the mountain. We are all tired and emotionally spent. And though I realize that there are other mountains and that I did my best, I am still uncertain as to how I feel. I wanted to stick with it and make it to the top with everything I had in me. What did I do wrong? Should we have not tried such a tough climb? Should we have quit sooner? Was there another trail that we missed on this mountain that we could have taken instead? What if we had had a better map? DId we miss something obvious, or was the task insurmountable from the beginning?
And as I trudge down the mountain, I cry, flooded with a feeling of failure, and unable to stop being plagued by the “might have beens.”
And I try not to think about what might have been
Cause that was then
And we have taken different roads
We can't go back again
There's no use givin in
And theres no way to know
What might have been (Lonestar)
I feel like I set out on an expedition several years ago. I wanted to get to the top of a very big mountain. I joined up with a team of people, and we were going to make it to the top because we believed that by getting to the top, there would be a beautiful view.
Every few months one of the people on the team would start to doubt what the view was going to be like, but we’d talk them through it and explain, that if we could just get there, the view would be great. There were times when we were in a little danger, but we convinced ourselves that the view from the top would be worth it. If we just kept pushing forward, kept moving ahead, we’d get there and we’d be oh so glad we hung in there.
There were times when we would almost give up, but we were still relatively healthy, we had the supplies we needed -- sure, we’d fall and lose ground sometimes, or have to stop and rest, but the top of the mountain still was still urging us to get there and see the view.
And then we get to the last part of the trip. We can almost see the top. We are so close and we’ve made so much progress. But the team is tired and worn out. The terrain is dangerous and steep. It’s cold and rocky. And there are storms brewing.
My co-captain has decided that the top may be a trick, and there may be no view, or maybe even just more mountain. Some of the team members have given up as well. Others are in danger of being physically hurt or even dying if we finish the trip.
Willing to sacrifice my own health because I really want to see the view from there, I trudge forward, but very few members of the team are able to come along. I realize that if I turn back, there will be no second chance. There will be no second expedition on this particular mountain. If we don’t get to the top this time, we’ll never see it.
But I take time to look around and I realize that if we don’t give up, everyone else will suffer. Their safety must come before my desire to make it to the top of that particular mountain. The truth is, that they all need their strength to climb their own mountains, and I will have to climb theirs with them as well. And many of them do have the potential to make it to the top of theirs. And that view will be spectacular as well.
And so I finally nod, and we slowly turn around and head back home. The view I hoped for, I will never see. I know I made the right decision, but I am plagued and haunted by the visions I had about that view.
It will be a long walk back down the mountain. We are all tired and emotionally spent. And though I realize that there are other mountains and that I did my best, I am still uncertain as to how I feel. I wanted to stick with it and make it to the top with everything I had in me. What did I do wrong? Should we have not tried such a tough climb? Should we have quit sooner? Was there another trail that we missed on this mountain that we could have taken instead? What if we had had a better map? DId we miss something obvious, or was the task insurmountable from the beginning?
And as I trudge down the mountain, I cry, flooded with a feeling of failure, and unable to stop being plagued by the “might have beens.”
And I try not to think about what might have been
Cause that was then
And we have taken different roads
We can't go back again
There's no use givin in
And theres no way to know
What might have been (Lonestar)
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