Finding Perspective in the Desert

“You see, [Wormwood] it is so hard for these creatures to persevere. The routine of adversity, the gradual decay of youthful loves and youthful hopes, the quiet despair of ever overcoming the chronic temptations with which we have again and again defeated them, the drabness which we create in their lives and the inarticulate resentment with which we teach them to respond to it- all this provides admirable opportunities of wearing out a soul by attrition.” –The Screwtape Letters

I don’t know about you, but I've certainly had the company of this quiet despair- wondering if I will ever escape the constant entrapment I feel I am in. Perseverance, as stated, is indeed quite difficult, especially when the end seems unreachable. I have found that sometimes the courage to continue is discovered in places you might never expect, like the desert.

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This past summer was the first time I had ever been to a real desert (as opposed to the fake ones, of course).

Now when I say real, I mean real. My mom and I took a trip to California in July, and we decided to spend an afternoon in Death Valley. For those of you who haven’t been crazy enough to take a detour to the hottest placed in the country in the hottest month of the year, this gives you an idea of what it looked like:

Not only was it an astonishing view of nature so unfamiliar to our eyes, but my mom and I were in awe of the solitude the valley offered. The silence seemed to echo, as the familiar sounds of birds chirping and wind blowing were absent from this place. Everywhere we looked the landscape appeared to go on for miles; we were unable to even fathom how far it truly went.

At one point in the distance, we spotted a series of sand dunes. Somehow our communication lines got crossed (I thought she wanted to go and she thought I wanted to go) and we headed out into the desert to try and reach the dunes. I’m not sure if either of us actually thought we would arrive there, but I suppose we were both in it for the other person, and so we would see how close we could get.

Embracing the desert with no shade, no wind, and the sun beating directly on our backs, we marched through the heat towards the treasured dunes. Though we quickly grew fatigued in the grueling 110-degree weather, we were both determined to continue on until the other resolved to stop. Now, I can’t guess what my mom must have been thinking, but after about 20 minutes I was working strategically in my mind how I could hint at the fact that I was ready to turn around.

We had walked almost three miles out into the desert, and it was unbelievable how the dunes continually looked the same. They in no way appeared any bigger than when we had started and the mountainous landscape before us still resembled a distant backdrop. After awhile, even the ground we walked on looked the same. If we looked behind us it seemed as if we had traveled for miles, but if we looked before us it seemed we hadn't even begun.

It was so discouraging! I kept putting one foot in front of the other, moving myself forward on auto-pilot, and yet each time I looked ahead I was convinced I hadn't gotten any closer. Walking senselessly in the desert, I began questioning our journey. How long would it be until we could actually see a difference in the distance between us and the dunes? Should I just keep walking if I don’t feel like I’m even going anywhere? I felt like I was in the movie Holes with Shia LaBeouf, and I could totally understand why a poisonous lizard that could kill with one bite could seem welcoming.

Ok, maybe it wasn't that bad, but it certainly wasn't pleasant!

It was shocking how much willpower, strength, and perseverance we seemed to exert, only to find we hadn't actually gotten any closer to the end.

There isn't a whole lot to do in the desert, so as we walked I started thinking (naturally. The last time I was in a desert-like area I compared myself to a cactus, remember?). I thought, “This is how I feel oftentimes. In my trials, struggles, and temptations, I feel as if I work and push and move and at the end of the day I haven’t actually gone anywhere. I’m no closer to healing or victory than I was when I began.”

In life I feel as I did in the middle of Death Valley. I continued to walk aimlessly down the path I imagined I ought to take, but as the end never seemed to move any closer, I constantly questioned if I should continue.

“If I’m not even making any progress, why bother putting in all this effort?”

In the middle of the desert, though, I realized the truth is that I have actually gained some ground. Even though the dunes still looked as far as they did when we began, we legitimately did cover some distance (I especially realized this was true when we had to cover it again on the way back to our car). It was discouraging in the midst of the desert because it felt as if we had put in all the effort for nothing, yet on the way of return we realized how far we had actually gone.

Although I try my hardest not to live in the past, I found it so valuable in that moment. Your eyes and mind will play tricks on you, I learned, and sometimes you need the past to remind you that you have in reality moved.

When the road you’re walking is a long one, the destination can seem an unchanging and never-ending distance away. In fact, sometimes it may be so far away you can’t even fathom what it will be like once you arrive. Though despite what your eyes may see, you can walk confidently and know you are indeed progressing toward the goal.

I don’t plan on irrationally walking through another desert anytime soon, but I do continue to reflect on its lesson as I walk through my deserts at home- in the valleys of death in my life that seem to have no end. I remember that sometimes all it takes it a short glance behind me, only long enough to remember where I began, to assure me that I have been moving.