Stuck in the mud

Never try to climb a hill in the Badlands after a storm.

Let me explain.

That kind of sounds like a fortune cookie, doesn’t it? It’s actually a real life lesson I learned the hard way.

The Badlands, if you don’t know, are a national park located in South Dakota. It’s one of the coolest places I have ever been. A quick google image search is highly recommended for your viewing pleasure but basically it’s miles upon miles of layered sediment that was carved by erosion into steep and rugged hills and spires. The rock layers are different colors which creates a stunning palette of natural reds, oranges, and tans of horizontal lines so straight it looks like they were drawn with a giant ruler.

On this particular trip I was there with my immediate family as well as my aunt, uncle, two cousins, and my grandparents, our usual adventuring crew. I was 15 at the time, which I mention because it’s an age when style takes precedence over proper footwear. But we’ll get to that.

It was on one of those early morning “wouldn’t it be amazing to see the sunrise” hikes that my family is known for. As a confirmed night owl the only thing that compels me to participate in these is hard core FOMO.

We had watched in amazement the night before as a huge thunderstorm the likes of which are only seen in the western plains rolled over the rock formations. Having gotten inside in time the night before we were congratulating ourselves on missing the bad weather and staying dry.

Except…mud.

The hikers were halfway up the side of one of the formations. It was basically a 45 degree angle and every one was struggling to gain traction on what had essentially become a mud slide while holding on to the rope that ran up the side of the path for assistance. That’s right, the hill was steep enough that the park rangers thought “hm, if we don’t put a rope up there people are going to die”.

But that was just the proper footwear people. Struggling isn’t a strong enough word for what I was doing. I was dying.

You see, I was wearing my solid white Adidas tennis shoes. At least, they were white when we started out. These were primarily selected for style and I had firmly resisted my parents offers to take me shopping for proper hiking boots. Parents are usually right.

For some unknown reason not only did my shoes refuse to gain any traction but they also began accumulating mud like it was their job. Eventually so much was caked on that I was basically wearing giant clown shoes made of mud.

As it turns out, mud on mud is not ideal for traction. I was holding onto the rope and frantically moving my legs as fast as I could in what was described by witnesses as “roadrunner legs”. But I couldn’t gain any ground, I was just running in place.

It is an awful feeling to be looking at your goal, to be trying as hard as you can to gain ground and but have no forward motion. It’s especially awful then this is where you are at in your prayer life. This has been me for the last several months: feeling like I’ve been running as fast as I can in certain direction but I’ve just been running in place, no progress to speak of. It started when I was reading my prayer journal which is always supposed to be encouraging; see what prayers God has answered, right? But I realized that through the last 3 years I had essentially been praying the exact same things over and over and I genuinely did not feel like any progress was made.

What do you do with that? And what does that mean?

From the many sermons and devotionals I have heard about prayer over my 28-years as a church-goer I’ve pieced together a theory. Sometimes it means the answer is “no”. Sometimes it means the answer is “not now”. Sometimes it means “you’re praying for the wrong thing”. Or even “I want to give this to you, but ___________ is in the way”.

Where do I go from here? A new perspective is called for because right now I’m sprinting in place, not gaining any ground up the side of the hill. I don’t mean to say that we will never have to pray long and fervently about anything, that’s just not true. But I’m also trying to take a step back and examine what I’ve prayed for, why I’ve prayed for it, how I’ve prayed for it, etc. Prayers can often become a checklist of “please fix this” or “please give me this”. The problem is, living in this broken world as broken people, this list becomes infinite.

These small and petty things are weighing my prayers down so that I can’t get anywhere. In reality there is a root problem (i.e. a shoe covered in mud) that I need to give over to God. Once he has dealt with the core issue the other things will fall away too. Or I will realize they don’t matter.

So what does this new perspective look like? For me, right now it means following a new prayer plan that is based in scripture and was created by someone wiser than me. I’m striving to not only ask God for my little, petty things (which, amazingly, he still cares about though he is infinite). I’m trying to pray for God’s will over my own because I want to internalize the truth that, through his sovereignty, he knows what I need better than I do. And also that there is a plan to further his kingdom. This plan is better and more important than the things that I want. By his divine grace I am welcomed to take part in his plan.

I’m praying the words of scripture to both display my faith in God’s promises and so that I will internalize them over time. I’ve been starting my prayer time with Romans 8:26-27: “Likewise the Spirit helps us in our weakness. For we do not know what to pray for as we ought, but the spirit himself intercedes for us with groanings too deep for words. And he who searches hearts knows what is the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for the saints according to the will of God.” I know that if I make this my prayer with diligence that it will change the way I pray. And though change and progress is still slow I know that my heart is changing to be more Christ-like, which is more important than a change in circumstances.

Sorry to leave you on a cliff hanger, back to 15-year-old me: I did eventually make it to the top of the hill (primarily by people with better shoes literally pushing me from behind–to my undying shame and amusement). And, of course, it was worth the struggle for the incredible view that waited.