Don’t Go Back Just Because You Know How to Survive There
There is something strangely comforting about knowing what to expect.
Even when what we expect is painful.
Even when it is unhealthy.
Even when we know we cannot remain there forever.
At least we know the rules.
We know how to respond. We know what to avoid. We know how to protect ourselves. We know which version of ourselves is required to function there.
We know how to survive.
And sometimes, when the unknown becomes difficult enough, knowing how to survive somewhere can begin to feel more appealing than learning how to live somewhere new.
That is where Israel eventually found themselves.
God had delivered them from Egypt. They had crossed the Red Sea. They had experienced His provision in the wilderness. They had seen His presence among them.
But then they reached another moment of pressure.
And this time, they didn’t merely complain about Egypt.
They actually talked about going back.
“Let Us Return Into Egypt”
Numbers 13 and 14 record one of the most sobering moments in Israel’s journey.
Moses sent twelve men to search the land God had promised them. When they returned, they agreed that the land was fruitful. But ten of the spies focused on the strength of the people living there, the fortified cities, and the obstacles Israel would face.
Fear spread through the congregation.
Numbers 14:2–4 tells us:
“Would God that we had died in the land of Egypt! or would God we had died in this wilderness!… And they said one to another, Let us make a captain, and let us return into Egypt.”
They weren’t simply remembering Egypt anymore.
They were considering returning to it.
Why?
Because what was ahead frightened them.
They knew Egypt.
They didn’t know Canaan.
They knew how to make bricks.
They didn’t know how they were going to overcome fortified cities.
They knew how to survive Pharaoh.
They didn’t know how to possess what God had promised.
And under enough pressure, the place they had once prayed to escape began looking safer than the place God was asking them to trust Him enough to enter.
The Unknown Requires Trust
There is a significant difference between the familiar and the unknown.
The familiar requires memory.
We’ve been there before.
We know how it works.
We know how people behave.
We know what happens when things go wrong.
We have already developed responses for it.
But the unknown requires something different.
Trust.
Israel could look backward and remember Egypt.
To move forward, they had to trust God.
They had to trust that the God who delivered them from Pharaoh was also capable of dealing with the people in Canaan.
They had to trust that the God who divided the Red Sea wasn’t suddenly powerless in front of a fortified city.
They had to trust what God had said when what they saw seemed to contradict it.
And that is where fear began speaking louder than memory of God’s faithfulness.
Sometimes We Don’t Want the Old Thing—We Want the Certainty It Gave Us
This is an important distinction.
When we feel pulled toward something from our past, it doesn’t always mean we genuinely want it back.
Sometimes we want the predictability that came with it.
Maybe you don’t really want the unhealthy relationship back.
You want companionship.
Maybe you don’t actually want to return to the old environment.
You want to know where you belong.
Maybe you don’t want to think the way you used to think.
You just knew how to function when you thought that way.
Maybe you don’t want to return to people-pleasing.
You simply haven’t become comfortable with someone’s disappointment when you say no.
Maybe you don’t want to control everything again.
But uncertainty feels frightening, and control once gave you the illusion that you could prevent something painful from happening.
So before interpreting the desire to go backward as direction, it may be worth asking:
What am I actually longing for?
Is it the old place?
Or is it certainty?
Is it that relationship?
Or is it companionship?
Is it the old pattern?
Or is it the temporary relief that pattern once gave me?
Is it the old version of myself?
Or do I simply miss knowing exactly who I was supposed to be?
Those are very different things.
Survival Skills Can Outlive the Situation That Created Them
Some behaviors make sense when we understand where they developed.
Perhaps you learned to read everyone’s mood before entering a room because knowing what emotional environment you were walking into helped you protect yourself.
Perhaps you learned never to ask for help because depending on someone had repeatedly resulted in disappointment.
Perhaps you became fiercely independent because there was a time when you really did have to handle everything yourself.
Perhaps you learned to keep quiet because speaking brought consequences.
Perhaps you learned to expect rejection because disappointment hurt less when you saw it coming.
Perhaps you became controlling because unpredictability once made life feel unsafe.
Those responses may have helped you survive something.
But there comes a point when we have to ask:
Does the thing that helped me survive there still belong in the life I am living now?
We can honor the fact that we learned how to survive without allowing survival to become our permanent way of living.
You Are Allowed to Outgrow the Version of You That Survived
Sometimes the place we are tempted to return to isn’t geographical.
Sometimes it is an old version of ourselves.
The woman who never asked anyone for anything.
The woman who apologized for taking up space.
The woman who accepted things she shouldn’t have accepted because she was afraid of being alone.
The woman who assumed everything was her fault.
The woman who kept everyone happy while quietly disappearing herself.
The woman who believed being needed was the same thing as being loved.
The woman who expected the worst so she could never be caught off guard.
Perhaps she helped you survive a season.
You don’t have to hate her.
You don’t have to be ashamed of her.
You can understand why she learned what she learned.
But you don’t have to become her again simply because you know how.
You are allowed to learn another way to live.
Pressure Is a Terrible Time to Romanticize the Past
Pressure has a way of making yesterday look simpler than it actually was.
We talked about this in the first blog of this series.
Israel remembered Egypt’s food while forgetting Egypt’s bondage.
And we can do something similar.
When today becomes difficult, we can compare the hardest part of our present with the easiest part of our past.
That isn’t an honest comparison.
We remember the companionship and forget the conflict.
We remember the financial security and forget what the environment was costing us emotionally.
We remember how confident we felt when we controlled everything and forget how exhausted control made us.
We remember how easy it was to say yes and forget the resentment that came from never allowing ourselves to say no.
We remember the relief an old coping mechanism provided and forget what happened after the relief wore off.
So when pressure makes you want to return, remember the whole story.
Not just the part your discomfort is highlighting today.
Familiar Doesn’t Mean You Belong There
There are places we can walk back into and immediately know exactly how to behave.
There are relationships where we can become an old version of ourselves within minutes.
There are thought patterns our minds can return to without effort.
There are coping mechanisms waiting for us like well-worn shoes.
They fit because we wore them for a long time.
That doesn’t mean they still belong to us.
Familiarity is powerful because it doesn’t require much thought.
We already know the path.
But knowing the path doesn’t mean we should walk it again.
Sometimes the reason going backward feels easier has nothing to do with whether it is right.
You simply have more practice going that direction.
Remember Who Brought You Out
When Israel wanted to return to Egypt, they weren’t merely questioning the wilderness.
They were losing sight of the God who had brought them through it.
Joshua and Caleb saw the same land the other spies saw.
They saw the obstacles.
They knew the people were strong.
They knew the cities were fortified.
But their conclusion was different.
Caleb said:
“Let us go up at once, and possess it; for we are well able to overcome it.”— Numbers 13:30 KJV
Later Joshua and Caleb said:
“If the LORD delight in us, then he will bring us into this land, and give it us.”— Numbers 14:8 KJV
Their confidence wasn’t simply in themselves.
Their perspective included God.
That changes everything.
The question wasn’t whether Israel had previously defeated people like this.
They hadn’t.
The question was whether God had proven Himself trustworthy.
He had.
Sometimes moving forward means we won’t have previous experience to rely upon.
There may not be a memory that tells us:
I’ve done this before. I know exactly how this works.
Instead, there is another memory:
God has been faithful before.
And perhaps that is the memory we need.
You Don’t Have to Know How to Live There Yet
Maybe you’re standing somewhere unfamiliar right now.
You know you cannot return to what was.
But you aren’t completely comfortable with what is becoming.
You don’t have all the answers.
You haven’t mastered the new way of thinking.
You still catch yourself reaching for old responses.
You may even have moments when you think:
It was easier before.
Maybe it was.
You knew how to survive there.
But easier does not automatically mean better.
Familiar does not automatically mean safe.
Uncomfortable does not automatically mean wrong.
And unfamiliar does not automatically mean dangerous.
Sometimes the place you know how to survive feels safer than the place where you have not yet learned how to live free.
But you can learn.
You can learn to respond differently.
You can learn to think differently.
You can learn to establish boundaries.
You can learn to receive love without earning it.
You can learn to rest without feeling guilty.
You can learn to trust without controlling every outcome.
You can learn to live without constantly preparing yourself for something to go wrong.
And when the pressure rises and something behind you begins calling your name, remember:
The fact that you know how to survive there is not a reason to return.
Maybe you don’t need to go backward.
Maybe you need to give yourself time to learn how to live forward.
Because the unknown requires trust.
The familiar requires only memory.
And sometimes faith means trusting God enough to keep walking toward a life you haven’t learned how to live yet.
Much Love
~Gayla~
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