Change Order - When anger, uncertainty, and growth collide.

What is change? Do we really want it, or are we afraid of it?

Sometimes change is forced upon us, leaving no choice but to adapt. Other times, we know there are areas of our lives that need to change, but we do not know how to begin. And often, we deeply desire change because we can see our current path is only leading to a future we do not want, yet we still resist it.

Why is it so hard? Why does anger surface so quickly? Why does fulfillment always feel just out of reach? Why do I always want more, yet rarely feel contentment, joy, or anything that feels genuinely grounded and real? My mind lived in a constant state of uncertainty, but one truth became clear beyond question: something had to change.

I recognized that I needed immediate change. The trajectory I was on mentally, emotionally, and spiritually was unsustainable. It was not leading to fulfillment or joy, and it was not fueling enthusiasm for life or the pursuit of new challenges. My tendency toward anger, loss of motivation, and feelings of worthlessness only fed more frustration and discouragement. Left unchecked, it was a cycle that would only lead to more isolation and dissatisfaction, or maybe worse.

That is when a getaway with friends came at exactly the right time.

I spent a week on a mountain biking trip with a group of men I genuinely love being around, guys I enjoy, or should enjoy, spending meaningful time with. And yet, even in that setting, I struggled to find happiness. On one of our first rides, we were climbing a rocky, technical trail that pushed my skill level. I failed to clear several obstacles, repeatedly losing momentum and nearly crashing.

I knew what I should do—stay focused, keep pedaling, and power through. But I could not! Each slip of the tire fed frustration, and each small failure just built more anger. Eventually, I was so overwhelmed that I wanted to throw my bike off the side of the mountain. I am not proud of that moment, and I know the guys around me could feel it. I hated the thought that my internal struggle might steal joy from their experience.

What mattered was how they responded. They stayed steady. They did not judge or criticize me. They offered encouragement and gave me space to work through it. I am grateful for men like that, men who do not flinch when things get messy and do not feel the need to fix you, and they refuse to leave you. I want to be that kind of friend for others as well, but it became clear that I first needed to be more grounded myself.

We finished the ride, my bike remained intact, and my headspace improved. That evening, over dinner, our conversations went deeper. One friend shared his journey through divorce, remarriage, and the loss of a child, and how his faith and his dependence on God and his trust that God was still in control and how God carried him through moments that should have broken him. Another friend opened about struggles that still linger from his years as a firefighter, burdens that did not disappear when the uniform came off. These were real, vulnerable, and genuine conversations!

That is when it hit me: I was not alone.

We are all carrying something. We are all wrestling with something. And at some point, we all desire redirection. But we are not meant to carry it alone. There is strength in fellowship and in being honest with friends and family who are willing to walk alongside you instead of offering advice from a distance. More often than not, the people sitting across the table from us have either walked the same road or carry insight that can help guide us through it.

The following day brought another ride that was even longer, harder, and more technical. I even had a horrible crash, but my mindset was completely different. Instead of fighting the obstacles, I accepted them. Instead of fearing failure, I stayed present. Being out in God’s creation and surrounded by beauty, challenge, and imperfection reset something in me.

The obstacles did not disappear, and the risk did not go away, but my trust was different. Sometimes growth does not come from avoiding the fall; it comes from trusting that when we do fall, we won’t be abandoned.

Change does not always arrive with clarity. Sometimes it begins with discomfort, frustration, or the quiet realization that the current plan is not working. A change order does not mean failure, it means responding honestly to reality.

The real question is this; Do we trust that there is purpose in the struggle? Do we trust that we are being guided even when we cannot see the full plan? Do we trust that something better is being built in us through the process? Or, can we have the strength to just trust that when we are going through an uncertain and uncomfortable change order, that we are being prepared for something better? 

Do we need a close group of friends in our lives that can help us see it and support us through it?