I was having a work-related struggle recently and I found it was stirring up something deeper, something eternity-related.

I went to a friend for advice. Then another friend. Then another friend. And all three basically said gracious but differently-worded versions of the same thing. It was frustrating. It wasn’t what I wanted to hear – it was what I suspected I might hear, but didn’t want to.

It wasn’t until the third person shared his thoughts that I realized I was hearing exactly what God wanted me to hear. It took me quite a bit of reflection to figure out why I didn’t appreciate hearing it.

I like new stuff.

Though we may not always realize it, we often go to friends hoping to get a perspective we haven’t heard before. Some new angle, some story, some strategy, maybe even a Scripture we had forgotten, what have you. The novel is tempting. This is a benefit of good counsel – we can be supplied with an outside perspective. But when the wisdom we are offered is true but hard, it reveals our hearts. Was there something we were hoping to hear?

There are gardens in our lives that we do not want watered with water we know. We think of it as old water, and surely new water is fresh and better, right? It frustrates us to go back to the things we already know. We’ve been there, done that. Our hard spiritual work doesn’t seem to be paying off. We’re still in the same places we were ten years ago. Old hat.

But then I remember Scripture has no expiration date. “God opposes the proud but gives grace to the humble.” (James 4:6). And it gives me the space to ask myself an honest question:

Since when does God owe me something better than the old answers?

Who am I to decide that, should they be necessary, the old answers aren’t enough?

Perhaps I simply need to keep on doing the hard task.

Perhaps I simply need to turn the other cheek.

Perhaps I simply need to own my wrong turn.

Perhaps I simply need to acknowledge the negative emotion, give it to the Lord, and again hit the trail.

Perhaps I simply need to groan again at the world’s darkness and long for The Day.

Sometimes I might be able to do something about my situation, improve my position, seek my rights. There might be times when I don’t have to just leave a blow unanswered, leave an idle dream unrealized, leave a mirror dark.

But when I must…no matter how many times I have already shown grace, chosen resilience, accepted self-sacrifice…I must do it again. Yes, again. As if the commands of the Holy Spirit have an expiration date, conveniently labeled as the moment the container decides it’s had enough.

New pride introduces itself as we grow older. The Entitlement of the Pilgrim, perhaps, whispering, “Surely we’ve done this enough times? Surely we can find ways around the Sunday School stuff this time? Surely, after everything we’ve been through, the old answers are just kinda, y’know, for the remedial?”

Nope. Not if I walk a trail owned by God. And they all are.

I renounce the Entitlement of the Pilgrim. The trailhead, the destination, and everything between are the Lord’s, and everything in them. Lord, help me be humble.

Sometimes the old answers still work.