There is something nobody really tells you about changing.

Sometimes you don’t miss the person you were.

You miss the life you had when you were that person.

Even if it was messy.

Even if it was unhealthy.

Even if it was slowly destroying you.

Because familiar has a strange way of feeling safe.

You can know something isn’t good for you and still miss it.

You can know a relationship was toxic and still miss the person.

You can know a habit was destroying you and still crave it.

You can know the old version of you was miserable and still occasionally want to become her again.

And I think that’s one of the hardest parts about actually following God.

He doesn’t just ask you to leave certain things behind. He asks you to stop romanticizing them.

That’s different.

Because it’s easy to say,

“God delivered me from that.”

It’s harder to admit,

“Sometimes I still want to go back.”

But honesty matters.

Because you can’t fight something you’re pretending you don’t miss.

Look at the Israelites.

God brought them out of Egypt.

Out of slavery.

Out of oppression.

Out of a place they had cried out for Him to rescue them from.

And then, in the wilderness, they started looking backward.

They remembered the food.

They remembered what they had.

They conveniently forgot the chains.

That’s what we do too.

We remember the attention but forget the betrayal.

We remember the comfort but forget the consequences.

We remember the temporary pleasure but forget the permanent damage it was creating.

We remember who we were before God started changing us, but we forget why we needed Him to change us in the first place.

And suddenly Egypt starts looking pretty good.

But Egypt wasn’t freedom just because it was familiar.

It was still Egypt.

And sometimes I wonder how often we do this spiritually.

God pulls us out of something, and instead of walking forward, we keep going back to visit it.

Just to check.

Just to see how it feels.

Just to remind ourselves that we could go back if we wanted to.

We reopen the conversation.

Check the profile.

Revisit the place.

Reconnect with the person.

Return to the habit.

Start entertaining the thought.

And then we’re confused when the temptation gets stronger.

Of course it does.

You keep feeding something and then wonder why it refuses to die.

You cannot repeatedly visit the house you’re trying to stop living in and then act surprised when you still know the way around.

At some point, you have to stop calling it nostalgia and start calling it what it is.

Attachment.

And sometimes attachment is the thing keeping you from becoming who God is calling you to be.

This doesn’t mean your past doesn’t matter.

It does.

Your past can teach you.

It can humble you.

It can become part of your testimony.

But your past was never supposed to become your permanent address.

Paul said:

“Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal…”
Philippians 3:13-14

Notice something.

He didn’t say the past never happened.

He didn’t say it didn’t matter.

He said he was pressing forward.

There is a difference between remembering where God brought you from and continually trying to return there.

And maybe that’s where some of us are stuck.

We’re asking God for a new life while keeping one foot planted in the old one.

We’re asking Him for transformation while maintaining access to everything that keeps pulling us backward.

We’re praying,

“God, make me different.”

while secretly preserving the things that made us who we no longer want to be.

At some point, we have to get brutally honest.

You cannot ask God to close a door while you’re the one keeping your hand on the handle.

And no, I’m not saying walking away is always easy.

It isn’t.

Sometimes you’re going to grieve things God removed from your life.

Sometimes you’ll miss people you know you shouldn’t return to.

Sometimes you’ll have moments where you question whether leaving was worth it.

Sometimes the old life will look especially attractive when the new one feels uncertain.

That’s normal.

But missing something doesn’t mean you were meant to return to it.

Read that again.

Missing it is not the same thing as needing it.

Feelings can tell you what you’re experiencing.

They don’t always tell you what you should do.

That’s why following God cannot be based entirely on how something feels in the moment.

Because sometimes obedience feels lonely before it feels liberating.

Sometimes holiness feels restrictive before you understand what it was protecting you from.

Sometimes saying no feels like loss before you realize what your yes was costing you.

And sometimes the hardest part isn’t leaving the old life.

It’s building enough of a new one that you stop wanting to go back.

That’s where I think we miss something important.

You can’t just remove.

You have to replace.

If you’re walking away from an old identity, you need to learn who you are in Christ.

If you’re walking away from destructive relationships, you need to learn what healthy relationships look like.

If you’re walking away from sinful habits, you need something deeper than willpower.

If you’re walking away from the person you used to be, you have to actually start becoming someone new.

Otherwise, eventually, the emptiness will start whispering,

“At least the old life knew what to do with you.”

And you’ll be tempted to return.

Not because the old life was better.

Because it was familiar.

That’s why transformation requires more than saying goodbye.

It requires learning how to live differently.

And maybe that’s what God is doing in your life right now.

Maybe you’re not being punished.

Maybe you’re not lost.

Maybe you’re simply standing in the wilderness between what you were and what you’re becoming.

And the wilderness is uncomfortable because you can’t go backward without knowing exactly what you’re returning to…

and you can’t see far enough forward to know exactly where you’re going.

So you have to trust God one step at a time.

Stop visiting Egypt.

Not because your past doesn’t matter.

But because God didn’t bring you out just so you could spend the rest of your life staring over your shoulder.

There is a reason the windshield is bigger than the rearview mirror.

You need the rearview mirror.

Just not more than you need the road ahead.

Your past can explain you.

It can teach you.

It can even become part of the story God uses.

But it does not get to decide where you go next.

So if God has called you out of something…

let yourself actually leave.

Don’t keep checking whether the chains are still there.

Don’t keep wondering whether you could go back.

Don’t keep romanticizing what God was trying to rescue you from.

Keep walking.

There is still a promised land ahead.

And you can’t get there while continually asking Egypt if it wants you back.

A Prayer for Moving Forward

Jesus,

You know how easy it is for me to look backward.

You know the parts of my past I still miss, even when I know they weren’t good for me.

Help me remember the whole story, not just the parts that feel comforting.

When I’m tempted to return to something You’ve called me out of, remind me why I left.

Give me the strength to stop romanticizing what once held me captive.

And when the future feels unfamiliar, help me trust You enough to keep walking anyway.

Teach me to remember my past without living in it.

Thank You for bringing me this far.

Now help me have the courage to keep going.

Amen.

Sit With This

What is something you’ve already asked God to remove from your life, but you keep finding ways to revisit?

And be honest:

Do you actually want to leave it, or do you just want it to stop hurting you?