That One Time Jesus Lifted My Heavy Backpack in Rehab
a story about His grace in the darkest hour
⚠️ Trigger warning: mentions of suicide ideation, etc.
Hey reader!! Here’s some background...
My time in the treatment center was one of the hardest times of my life (year 2019-2020). However, looking back now, it’s one of my most cherished memories because of the great friends I’ve made.
The place I was admitted to were filled with a combination of people who severely struggled with either drug or alcohol dependence, a mental illness, or (in most cases) a dreadful combination of both.
In my case, (I’ve never done drugs or anything) I was there because I was in the lowest point of my depression and had increased suicidal ideation. I felt hopeless and needed help to get back to healthy functional living. That is not the case now :)
The Lord has been putting this specific time of my life in my mind recently, so I hope and pray that He can speak to you in some way shape or form—through this part of my journey that became forever precious to me.
Jesus loves and cares for you, dear reader.
"So, are you gonna tell us what we’re doing here?” someone snaps. They definitely read my mind.
It’s so cold, it’s not even funny.
“Gladly with that refreshing attitude,” our mentor smiles with a twinkle in his eye, and tells us to follow him.
As we walked alongside what seems like a forgotten road, there were countless (and I mean countless) piles of rocks, not too far from each other. They all looked like giant ant hills, I thought. Some were four feet tall or less, some six feet or more.
We stopped walking. We were soon surrounded by these giant, lifeless rock anthills and the red sand mountain-floor.
“See this?” Mentor points to the pile of rocks next to him, about six foot tall. “I want you to pick your rocks.”
“What?”
“Some of you are open book. And some are . . . well, definitely more guarded than most—”
Crickets. Hollow stares.
Mentor clears his throat awkwardly, “What I’m trying to say is that each of you are here for a reason. And most likely, there are deeper reasons besides the elephant in the room—besides the substance and depression. Those are two very obvious rocks.
You pick the size and weight for each rock. Think carefully for each one you choose and put them all inside your backpack.”
Almost everyone avoided eye contact. Some rolled their eyes. I, for one, just wanted to go back to bed and get this over with.
I saw some people pick huge rocks, even the tiniest ones too. I picked mine, I had many. I did see a few people have extremely bulky backpacks.
When we finished selecting and filling our packs, our mentor drives us up somewhere else.
Somewhere completely different.
Snow.
A massive field and (maybe tiny hill looking vibe entirely covered in snow…a hiking trail?? I forget, I had a ton of medication this time lol). I don’t think I see any sign of color or dirt. Just snow.
Our mentor puts each of us in a straight line, picking who would be in front and behind each person. And we started our walk, with our backpacks filled with our annoyingly heavy rocks.
It started snowing.
My bag was heavy. I felt like crying again. I forget who was in front of me but their bag looked heavier than mine. Maybe they want to cry too.
My shoulders started to hurt and it feels we’ve been walking this forever. We took breaks because some were getting exhausted.
We started to walk again and for some reason my backpack felt heavier with each step.
I started to look down, bent my back forward, and soon my posture felt lower to the ground. Lower and lower.
As I walked my very low walk, feeling like I couldn’t take another step
I saw words on the snow
“you can do this”
“don’t give up”
“keep walking”
Those ahead of me,
who (arguably) had heavier packs,
I think their rocks brought them really low too
even to the ground
which gave them the opportunity
to write light and grace
for others
for me
at our lowest
and it feels really strange to say that
thankfully i was low enough to see the words,
low enough to understand that
my friends who were also at their lowest
gave me words
because in some way, some how
they understood and felt the weight,
the ache,
the deeper sense
of unique dread each of us had
that only our hearts would know
~
I grew up learning that Jesus knows our hearts and trials perfectly
Knowing the deep pain, sorrow, crying dependence each of us had… how could He have wanted to go through this? this horrifying anguish?
Why would He want to feel this exact pain each of us were uniquely feeling at this moment? harsh, hollow, an excruciating wave of loneliness in the dark?
I hated this walk, I hated my rocks… did He feel that I hated them too? did He feel how heavy my heart felt at this time too?
If He did experience the life of my heart completely
then maybe Jesus was here
maybe He walked this trail first before we did
He prepared the words we would see in the snow
Prepared my friend to write them too
He knew this walk perfectly, knew this trial perfectly
that means He cared right? I mean…He walked our trail to prepare the way before us,
wouldn’t that mean there is someone who knew my heart before i did?
Someone was here,
Someone was here first,
Someone was here before we were,
Someone knew before we did,
because I swear
I swear my backpack felt lighter
🌿
Looking back at this moment, I know that there is power in sharing your light with others through the grace of storytelling—to help others know that they are never walking alone. I invite you to share your heart to someone who may need it like how I needed them at this time, in my story. 💜
“Never suppress a generous thought.” —Camilla E. Kimball.
I feel grateful to understand this quote below in a deeper level too!!
“However late you think you are, however many chances you think you have missed, however many mistakes you feel you have made or talents you think you don’t have, or however far from home and family and God you feel you have traveled, I testify that you have not traveled beyond the reach of divine love. It is not possible for you to sink lower than the infinite light of Christ’s Atonement shines.”
The Laborers in the Vineyard by Jeffrey R. Holland
Which of His words brought light to you at your lowest? Maybe it was an unexpected kind gesture? If something pops in your mind, I would love to know—share His grace in the comments, see you there!! ❤️
If you liked this short story, I think you may like these!! :)
Thank you for sharing this beautiful story Jae. As someone who also as experience with mental health issues and suicidal ideation, it touched my heart. Praise Jesus that He goes before us and walk with us in our journeys.
Vulnerable posts can be scary to click that publish button—i just did one too so I’m acutely aware haha! Thank you for opening up and sharing. Beautiful.