I enjoy reading stories about rites of passage. There’s something fulfilling about a person leaving behind the safety they’ve known, facing a challenging personal quest and triumphantly returning as a respected member of society. They have faced danger, survived the experience, been changed by it and as a result have crossed over the threshold into adulthood. Why are these stories so cathartic? Perhaps because our society doesn’t have any definite rites of passage. Learning to drive, getting a job, buying a house, getting married, and raising children can all be important steps in our lives, but do this things transform us into men or women? True, getting lost in the woods, searching for an animal companion, leaping face first from a tower, or hanging from hooks embedded in the skin all seem like pretty strange ways to prove someone has reached that certain level of maturity. Still, there was at least a clear way to do so. Such methods don’t make sense to us anymore, but I wonder if we really are missing out on something those practices were meant to accomplish.

In the end, I think a lot of us simply prefer stagnation. We don’t want to leave the comforts of childhood to face real danger on our own. We don’t want to prove ourselves because it’s too much effort. We don’t want to be tested in case we discover that we’re failures, even though by not trying we’ve automatically become so. I find myself tempted to fall into the Peter Pan syndrome, not wanting to grow up, face difficulties, make sacrifices, and accept responsibility. I’m not saying we shouldn’t find joy in the little things of life. I truly admire those who find satisfaction in simplicity and I hope to follow their patterns. We should be thankful in all circumstances. But I must be on guard not to find contentment in the mundane. Have I resolved to build sandcastles on the shores of experience when an entire ocean awaits for me to explore? Am I so afraid of leaving behind what is comfortable that I’ve chosen a life of spiritual paralysis? These are things I must ask myself.

Thankfully, God tests us, whether we like it or not. I often remind myself that everything is a test. In a rather extreme example, God had Abraham prove his faithfulness by offering the one thing he cared about most, his only son. And not just any only son, but the one God had promised Abraham even though he and his wife we far beyond child-bearing years. Sure, God already knew the outcome beforehand, but I wonder what effect the experience had on Abraham and his son Isaac (who, I believe, was a young man at that point). And what an encouragement that story is to us now. Unlike many tribal rites of passage, God’s method is not a one-shot deal where failure is irreversible. Instead, we are constantly being tested. Testing is a purification process, comparable to the way gold or silver are refined through fire. Remarkably, God can work even through our failures. So I hope that I will face the next challenge willingly, seeing it as an opportunity for growth, knowing that, while it may seem terrifying, the outcome far outweighs the deceptive comforts of just giving up.