Guidance Grief
One evening I asked a group of people, “Who are your guides?” I expected to hear about parents, teachers, and coaches. But the conversation went in a different direction.
First there was silence.
Then a guy said, “My friend shows me how to fix my car.” His hands lifted involuntarily as if to say, “That’s all I’ve got.” Someone else told about being guided into and out of drug abuse by a sister. Another said, “I didn’t have guides.”
With several people staring at the tabletop, I got the sense that this was more than just an open-ended question gone wrong. I asked, “Is this a sore subject?”
That’s when they started to talk:
- “No one thought I was worth investing in.”
- “If people tried to guide me, I would never trust them.”
- “The people I admired turned out to be just as messed up as I was.”
These were not just younger people. The ages went from twenty to seventy. Rich and poor voiced the same feelings.
Our society has become a cultural abnormality in world history. Over the last few generations, we’ve given less and less guidance. We don’t mark paths for ethical or spiritual life. Rather, we have created a new duty: find yourself. Construct your own identity out of … whatever.
The people in our discussion had followed the ethic, “Do what’s best for you.” But no one had answered their most important question: “How do I know what’s best for me?” Their guides didn’t know and couldn’t be bothered to care.
Ultimately, our discussion went in the direction of grieving and forgiveness — lifting the neglect up to God and asking for healing.
Imagine the scene in Proverbs 3.1–2. A father is talking with his son about life. Talking. With words. “My son, do not forget my teaching, but let your heart keep my commandments, for length of days and years of life and peace they will add to you.”
That kind of dialogue can be hard work. But the consequences of neglect are much harder.
