Connecting The Dots and The Crooked Path
- jimhlifecoach
- May 5
- 26 min read
Updated: May 8
The Spiritual Path to Purpose
Viktor Frankl says that we detect rather than invent our missions in life. What he is saying is that our purpose isn’t something that we choose. We just don’t make it up. It isn’t something that we pick because it is something that we like to do, it is easy or effortless, or it is original. It is something much deeper than that and much more demanding.
Purpose is discovered in reality. It is discovered out there in the world. Purpose is discovered in the situations that we face, the responsibilities that we have, and the needs that surround us. Instead of asking yourself, “What do I want my purpose to be?” The better question is “What is life asking of me right now?”
In the movie, Dead Poets Society, John Keating (played by Robin Williams) quotes Walt
Whitman, “That the powerful play goes on, and you may contribute a verse.” And then he asks his students... What will your verse be? It is like life is this big screenplay, and you get to be part of it. As you see the screenplay unfolding, you respond. The role you end up playing may end up being much different than what you originally thought.
You have a calling that is uniquely yours. There is no such thing as a one-size-fits-all, cookie cutter approach to your purpose. You detect your mission or your purpose by paying attention to the challenges that you are facing, responsibilities that you can’t seem to ignore, people or causes that you feel drawn to, and the suffering that you go through that really is asking something of you. It is like tuning into a signal that is already there.
It is not so much, follow your passion and that is where you will find your purpose. Although, starting with your passion isn't a bad idea. It is more responding to the challenges, responsibilities, people, and experiences in your life, and your purpose reveals itself. Meaning isn’t mainly found in what feels good. It is about what is being asked of you, even when it is hard.
Purpose can be found in the obstacles you face and in the suffering. Not through toxic positivity or inventing silver linings, but through your attitude, your response, and your approach. You carry your burdens in a way that transforms you and others.
Connecting The Dots
Lately, I have been thinking of my life as a series of dots. If I am not careful, many of the dots can look meaningless. They just feel like things that happened as I moved forward on my path. A conversation, a meeting, a win, a failure, a breakup, a lesson, a moment of clarity... But in hindsight, as I look back, I can connect the dots. It is only when you look back that the dots start to connect. Your path is always forming. Life must be lived forwards and understood backwards. Looking back, you can see the trajectory of your path as you connect the dots.
The line that you draw to connect the dots is as important as the dots themselves. Two
people can have similar dots or events and draw completely different lines from them. The lines can have completely different directions. One person draws a line from failure as “I am not good enough.” But another person draws a line from the same failure as “That is what redirected me to what really matters.” Same dots but different paths. We don’t control everything that happens (the dots), but we do have control over the meaning that we assign to them and the direction of the line. The trajectory that our paths take.
Some of those dots don’t even become visible until later when you look back. At the time they just seemed like noise. But years later you look back, and you see that dot was really a moment when everything changed. There are dots that didn’t seem important at the time, but they changed your life. They were pivotal moments.
What is important is not necessarily the dots themselves, but what takes place between them. The space between the dots is where reflection can happen, intentions are set, and course correction can occur. Really, what is required is pressing pause. Rushing from dot to dot will still result in connecting them, but the path becomes much more reactive and less intentional. The space between the dots is an opportunity.
You Don't Need to See the Whole Path to Move Forward. You Just Need to Connect the Next Dot
Just like a child’s puzzle, up close all of the dots can be confusing. But zoom out and the path becomes much clearer. You don’t need to see the whole path to move forward. You just need to connect the next dot... With intention. So many of the dots along our paths are placed there due to our own choices. And other dots are placed for us... Representing circumstances, challenges, and opportunities that somehow just happened. Our paths emerge through the interaction of both.
Life doesn’t hand us a clear map—it gives us dots. Moments. Decisions. Turning points.
And over time, through reflection and choice, we draw the lines that reveal the path we’ve been on all along. And the path is not straight. But that can be our goal moving forward. Making our crooked paths straight. The elusive brass ring. Our paths bend, circle back, and surprise us. Ultimately, they will lead us to something meaningful. Our purpose.
We don’t control everything that happens (the dots), but we do have control over the
meaning that we assign to them and the direction of the line. These are pivotal moments on our paths, where life can change dramatically based on the meaning that you assign to the dot and the resulting direction of the line that you draw.
Imagine this scenario. You were raised in a highly dysfunctional family. That in itself is going to affect your path. Your path is going to go a little bit sideways, and that puts you at a disadvantage. You may feel a little different than a lot of kids your age. You may start acting out. Hanging out with the wrong crowd. Getting into trouble... drugs and drinking at a young age. There will come a time when you will have a decision to make. A big dot. You decide either to continue on that path or to do something about it.
Let’s say you decide to do something about your situation. You have the desire and motivation to take intentional action. At some point you have to make that decision. Really, what choice do you have? Of course you have a choice, but the further you go down a path of misalignment, the harder it is to get back. So, you make the decision to take your power back, get sober, straighten out your life... Whatever it is that you have to do... That dot or decision right there is a spiritual awakening.
The act of stopping the poor behavior isn’t spiritual. What leads to the action is what is spiritual. What is driving it (motivation)? What is the deeper realization (desire) that has lit the spark in the first place? Asking yourself, “Is this who I really am?” Realizing that you can’t keep betraying yourself the way you have, and that you are worthy of something so much more aligned. It is less about what you do, and more about what woke up inside of you, and what woke you up. That is the spiritual part.
Think about it. When you want to wake someone up who is sound asleep, what do you do?
You nudge them. You whisper to them. Trying to get them to wake up gently. And that is what your soul is doing when you are misaligned. Your soul doesn’t shout. It doesn’t force. It just is. It is patient. It waits. Just like the truth. It is there.
When you live reactively, and are driven by impulse, external noise, and avoidance... You are listening to your ego. But when you finally get quiet enough, you can hear the deeper truth of your soul, saying... That is not you... You are better than that... Look at where this path is leading you... You were meant for more. Sometimes a person has to hit rock bottom before they hear that deeper truth. It isn’t that your ego disappears. We all have one. You simply decide not to let it lead any longer. You choose to be led by your soul. The quiet shift of having had enough and not wanting to live like this anymore is deeply spiritual. Sometimes a spiritual awakening doesn’t look like enlightenment. Sometimes it just looks like someone who is finally refusing to abandon themselves.
When the Student is Ready. The Teacher Will Appear - Buddha
And that teacher could be a person, but it could also be a book, an event, a class, a 12-step program such as Alcoholics Anonymous (AA)... And your interaction with whatever or whoever the teacher is will leave space for you to define what that interaction means to you. It will be different for each person.
These interactions are often characterized in the following ways -
It Opens You to a Higher Power – A power greater than oneself. Not necessarily religious. But for some that is God. For others it is simply Truth. Or the idea of growth or alignment. The idea that there is a different path... A better path... A more aligned path. It is not saying that you must believe or follow any specific doctrine. It is saying that you are fully capable and worthy of following a more aligned path.
It Emphasizes Surrender – It is a recognition that what you have been doing isn’t working. It isn’t getting you to where you want to go. That what you have been doing, or the path that you are on, is misaligned in some way. That you can’t keep doing the same things and expect the results to be any different. It is a letting go of control and entering into humility and openness. Letting go of the old and being open to something new. Shifting from ego-driven to soul-driven. It is an openness and willingness to be led.
It Is About Transformation and Not Just Behavior Change – Stopping poor behavior, doing things differently, and building better habits is the surface-level goal. But the deeper work is most important. The why. Why you should do this. Why it matters. It is about self-awareness, self-honesty, self-examination, living with integrity, and in alignment.
It Reconnects You – The path you were on may have isolated you, shrunk you, or broke you. The teacher is meant to reconnect you to truth, to community, and to purpose.
When is the student ready? Those moments where the old way of living stops making sense anymore are not always dramatic and not always emotional. But they are unmistakable. Here are some examples -
The “I Can’t Keep Doing This” Moment – You are not necessarily at rock-bottom yet. It is just a quiet and undeniable truth.
You are sitting alone after another evening of “numbing out.” Doomscrolling... Channel surfing... Imbibing or indulging in behaviors that are not good for you.
You realize your job is exhausting the life out of you
As a parent, you see yourself repeating patterns that you experienced as a child that you swore you would never repeat with your own children
It may not be loud, but it is clear. This is not who you want to be.
The Mirror Moment - You realize that in all of the issues that you face, that you are the common denominator. You finally realize your role in any failed relationships. You catch yourself in a lie or in an excuse. It is a shift from, “Why is this happening to me?” to “How am I contributing to this?” Ownership starts to replace blame. You recognize your self-sabotage. To quote author Brianna Wiest... The Mountain is You.
The Loss of Appeal for the Old Life – Things that used to excite you, don’t anymore. Old habits feel empty. Conversations that you are having feel shallow, when they used to be the norm. It is like you are outgrowing a version of yourself. That in-between space can feel restless, lonely, and disorienting. But at the same time, it feels honest.
The Pull Towards Something Better – Even if you don’t know what it is. The pull towards something more aligned. It feels less like a breakdown and more like a redirection. Feeling drawn towards growth, truth, or purpose.
Sweet Surrender – Not giving up, but letting go of control, ego, the need to be right, or the need to be wearing masks. You are finally open to seeing things differently and realize that you don’t have all of the answers.
Taking Responsibility - Realizing that no one is coming to save you. That realization is not heavy or hopeless. It is empowering. You realize that your life is yours to shape and that your choices matter.
An awakening is a mixed bag of emotions. It is a mix of clarity, humility, hope, some grief for the old you, and a sense that you cannot unsee what you now see and believe.
Honestly, I have experienced each one of these moments. Surrender becomes easier in times of distress. During periods of hardship when you feel that you have tried everything, and you don’t know what to do or where to turn. When you are stretched to the limit and things are a mess. When we are in these places where we have lost the job, or we have lost the relationship. We are in financial difficulty, or we have hit rock bottom in some way. Those are the moments where the breakthrough happens. Not the solution, but a path forward. Because there is nowhere else to go but up. That place of losing it all isn’t always a bad thing. It can sometimes be the easiest pathway to a spiritual relationship because you have been humbled and you maybe have been brought to your knees. And you realize that your will isn’t going to get you anywhere anymore. So, you have to let go, trust, and allow. And you are going to take the next right action which is in front of you. That can be the miracle moment for people. That can be your miracle moment.
Life’s most profound transformations often begin in the depths of struggle. When everything
seems to fall apart, when the path ahead feels uncertain, and when hope appears distant, something powerful begins to stir beneath the surface. The lowest point is not the end—it is the threshold to a new beginning. It is the doorway to the highest version of the self.
Reaching the lowest point strips away illusions. It removes the distractions, the noise, and the false identities built around comfort and success. In that raw space of vulnerability, truth emerges. The ego quiets, and what remains is the essence of who one truly is. Pain, though uncomfortable, becomes a teacher—revealing what truly matters and what no longer serves.
At the bottom, resistance often fades. There is a moment of surrender, not of defeat, but of acceptance. This surrender opens the heart to growth. It allows new perspectives to form and new strength to rise. The very act of letting go creates space for transformation. From that space, resilience, clarity, and purpose begin to take root.
The journey upward begins with small steps—acts of courage, moments of self-compassion, and renewed faith in possibility. Each step forward is a declaration that the lowest point was not a failure, but a foundation. The lessons learned in darkness become the light that guides the way forward. Growth is no longer about avoiding pain, but about integrating it into wisdom.
The Highest Self Is Not A Version Untouched By Hardship
The highest self has walked through the fire and emerged whole. It is grounded in authenticity, guided by purpose, and strengthened by experience. The lowest point becomes sacred because it was the passageway to this awakening. Without it, the depth of strength, empathy, and understanding might never have been discovered.
When life descends into difficulty, it is easy to see only the fall. Yet, within that descent lies an invitation—to awaken, to evolve, and to rise. The lowest point is not a punishment but a passage. It is the doorway to the highest self, waiting to be opened by courage, acceptance, and faith in the journey ahead.
I have been there. I have felt the nudges along the way. I have heard the whispers. I have truly been blessed and received grace. But I have also ignored, disregarded, and strayed. And I have paid the price. And the road back didn’t happen until I finally started to listen.
My hope is not just to explain spiritual growth. I have walked it. I have lived it. I am living it. My hope is that you will recognize yourself in my story, as I relate my spiritual journey through the lens of M. Scott Peck’s stages.
I think back on my spiritual path, starting with its roots...
The foundation of faith in my family came from my mother. We were brought up in what I
would call a Christian home and were taught to believe in God and that Jesus was His son who died on the cross for our sins. Having said that, I would not describe my home as a being devoutly Christian. We didn’t immerse ourselves in scripture readings daily or at all. That was reserved for church. We had bibles in our home, but as a family, we never cracked them open. They were generally in drawers or nightstands. There were no crosses hanging on the wall, pictures of Jesus anywhere, or framed biblical scriptures. I recall that my mother would say grace before our Sunday dinner, which usually was more formal, served in the dining room rather than the kitchen where we ate most of our other meals during the week. That was the only time a blessing over our meals would be given.
Mom would go to church on Sunday. I can’t say that she went every Sunday. She may have when I was too young to recall, or before I was born. I know that as I got older, she would not go as much. But much of that, I believe was because life got busier. She would ensure that my brothers and I went to Sunday School. Especially if she was attending church that day. As we grew up, we would attend less and less, as many kids do as they enter adolescence and their teens. We weren’t forced to go, and typically we decided not to go as we got older.
Mom taught us to pray each night since we were very young. Saying our “God blesses” and usually ending with the Lord’s Prayer. I would carry on the tradition of saying nightly prayers as I grew up. Although there were ebbs and flows throughout my life, and a few dry periods where I did not pray at all or not that deeply. And the structure, format, and intent of my prayers would change throughout the years. I don’t know if my brothers continued to pray or not. I seem to recall one brother saying he continued to pray "just in case." Just in case, God was real I suppose is what he meant. My other brother, I couldn't see succumbing to a higher power.
My mother lived her faith. Even though she may not have attended church every Sunday, you could tell what her beliefs were by the way she lived. She lived faithfully and loved others fully and without condition. My dad would tell us, years after Mom passed away, that she would get down on her knees each evening before bed and say her prayers. That did not surprise me.
Mom’s faith came from her family. She grew up in a family that was more involved in their church. Mom was part of the youth group there, and that is where she met many of her friends. Several of them turned out to be lifelong friends that became part of the fabric of our family. Other family members on my mother’s side carried on faith traditions and also were involved with their churches. Christmas and Easter were always celebrated in our home. Mom grew up as a member of the United Church of Canada, and we continued in that faith tradition.
Sins of the Father
Dad’s faith and his beliefs were much less clear. I don’t recall Dad ever attending a regular church service on a Sunday morning. The only time I remember Dad going to church was for special occasions like weddings or funerals. He fully supported my mother though. They made regular donations to the local church, although I don’t know if they actually tithed. As I got older and more aware of what went on behind the scenes at church, I became well aware that the majority of the congregation at our church came nowhere near to tithing or giving ten percent or their income. Mom was the spiritual leader in our house. She taught us to pray. She said grace at Sunday dinners. She made sure we went to Sunday school. And she would often attend church services alone.
There was some faith tradition on Dad’s side of the family, but it wasn’t fully integrated. At least it was not instilled in my Dad as far as I could see. Dad was a good person and lived many Christian values, but he never wore his spirituality on his sleeve. In fact, often he would have humor at the church’s expense. He would joke about what he referred to as “Lazy Christians”, which to him were those people who say they are Christian, but never or rarely go to church. Preferring to sleep in on a Sunday morning or have other priorities.
Unlike my mother, Dad never prayed. At least he never talked about it and I never
witnessed him praying. Still, I saw through the years, glimpses of spirituality in him. Every November 11 on Remembrance Day (Veteran’s Day in the United States), Dad would watch the memorial service that would be on TV and observe the moment of silence at 11AM. Tears would well up in his eyes. Dad was in the Canadian Armed Forces but never went overseas during World War 2. But he had friends who did, and some who did not return. As children, Dad made sure that we watched the service as well, if we were at home and not attending school that day. He instilled in me the importance of that day, and I continue to honor it. Through the years in my career I would travel to Ottawa, the capital of Canada. And almost every time I was there, I would pass by the War Memorial, if I could, and pause.
I remember catching Dad watching a Billy Graham Crusade on TV once, and seeing his eyes well up again as people streamed down from the stands of the stadium at the invitation to give their lives to Jesus. Despite any rough exterior that Dad may have shown at times, he had a soft heart. He was feeling something inside. I don’t think Dad denied his faith. I think he struggled with it. He didn’t understand it. Especially as he faced adversity. I can imagine Dad arguing with God and even being angry with God. At times wondering... God, where are you?
I Don't Know, But There Is A Reason...
Mom passed away from cancer way before her time. My brothers and I were far too young to lose our mother. Dad was too young to lose his wife. Mom was 59 when she passed and Dad would live another thirty years, and I don’t believe he ever came to terms with her passing. None of us did. I was 23 years old and had just graduated from university. My older brother was 24 and about to get married. My younger brother was 18 and just graduated from high school. Mom’s passing affected our family forever. Dad had a good friend who he met through the family business. His name was Joe. He was a good customer of Dad’s hardware store. And he would come over and visit him long after the store had gone out of business and Dad had retired. He helped Dad out by cutting his lawn, shoveling his snow, and doing odd jobs around his home. Dad would pay him, but Joe would do the work gladly, remembering how Dad had been good to him. Joe was a staunch Mennonite, highly involved in his church and was a good steward of his faith. After doing chores at Dad’s home, he would come inside and sit with Dad at the kitchen table and visit. Dad would often ask Joe, “If there is a God, why did He take away the mother of three young boys who needed her? Why did He take away my wife... A great woman that everyone loved, who never hurt anyone?” Joe would reply, “I don’t know, George. But there is a reason.” Dad never liked that answer. I have to say I didn’t at the time either. But that just showed me that Dad was having a spiritual battle. Questioning God. Does He exist? Is He a just God? Is He a loving God? How could God have allowed this? Dad was asking questions. But I believe he was asking those questions to the wrong person. Instead of asking Joe, he should have been asking God. And then opening up his ears, heart, and mind to God to hear what He was saying. Surrendering... I believe that is what God wanted him to do. Dad would grieve over my mother until the day he died.
I believe my mother was a solid Stage 2 on her spiritual path. She had a Christian upbringing, and she carried that with her until the day she passed. You don’t have to attend church regularly to be a good Christian, a person of faith, or spiritual. Mom gave of herself unconditionally, and she followed the greatest commandment... to "Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.” And also the second commandment, “Love your neighbor, as yourself.” That was a fact. Even during her illness, she never lost her faith in God.
It wasn’t so clear with my Dad. He arguably could be seen as a Stage 1. He never talked about his belief in God. He never went to church. He was highly driven by his own ego. He was a moral person, but he looked at things through his own lens. Deciding for himself what was right or wrong. He was inflexible in many of his views, easily triggered, and quick to blame others. He had a lack of self-awareness in digging deeper to see why things were the way they were. He would avoid self-examination. He would gaslight my mother. Directing emotional abuse to her without cause. He would do the same towards my brothers and I. For someone who taught us to take responsibility for our lives, in many ways Dad did not do the same with his.
Dad supported my mother and the rest of us in our involvement with the church, even though he didn’t take part. Stage 1 requires a submission to authority, and Dad resisted that. He lived by his own rules and moral code.
In reality, I think Dad was somewhere between Stages 1 and 2. He was often rigid in his opinions and rules, but just when you least expected it, he would ease up. I noticed this especially after Mom died. Maybe that loss is what eventually caused Dad to shift towards Stage 2. He may not have said it in so many words, but he would show signs of remorse or regret, which to me seemed to be much more than just grieving and missing her. He would direct a lot of emotional abuse her way without cause and needlessly. Dad would say in his latter years that the best part of fighting with Mom was making up. Whether he realized it or not, he was experiencing the consequences of missing her and not treating her better while she was alive, and wishing that maybe he had done things differently.
I witnessed evidence of spiritual stirrings that he showed when he honored Remembrance
Day, when he watched Billy Graham, and in his interactions with his friend Joe. His questioning of God. Also, in his support of my mother and us boys. It was as if he felt my mother could represent the family, and that would cover him. There was an attraction yet resistance at the same time. I saw Dad looking for answers, but he wouldn’t be forced into anything. I would see a much softer side of Dad as the years passed after Mom died. Maybe that was Dad just getting older. But he was definitely less reactive, although he still had his moments. He was much more empathetic and flexible. There were definitely what looked like signs of growth, but it was more likely signs of surrender without fully releasing his grip. It was as if there was a gap that he was trying to bridge. Responsibility for his actions was starting to land, even though it hadn’t taken root. He was looking for answers but hadn’t fully opened up his mind and heart to all of the possibilities.
In my book, Back On The Crooked Path, I noted the most common regrets expressed by people on their death beds. This according to those whose profession it was to care for the dying, such as Personal Care Home Nurses and Hospice Workers. I would say the same holds true for those who are not yet on their death beds, but maybe in the final pages of their lives and coming to terms with their own mortality. Some of the regrets expressed were...
Working Too Hard - Or maybe working too hard on the wrong things.
Not Expressing Their Feelings - Not expressing their true feelings. Not being able to express their feelings anymore. Grief is love built up that is left unexpressed. Also, expressing feelings inappropriately.
Also... Losing touch with friends. Not allowing yourself to be happy (or happier). Not spending time with loved ones. Not taking better care of your health. Letting fear dictate your choices. Not living true to yourself. Not contributing to the world and not traveling the world.
I saw a lot of this in Dad in his latter years. The questions, the questioning, and the reflecting were signs that things were shifting and cracks were appearing. Like there was an awakening, even though it may not have been fully realized. I see that as being a spiritual shift towards Stage 2.
As a child, the neighborhood in which I grew up was my world. Within the few city blocks in
in which I lived were some of the key places that were focal points for so many activities. They made up the character of my neighborhood. The schools, the local community club, Dad’s hardware store, other local businesses, and the churches. In many of these places, I would see many of the same faces. Kids that I went to school with would be in my Sunday School class. Some would take part in the same activities as me at the community club. The focal point of my faith journey was the St Vital United Church for almost 40 years of my life. Not only did I attend Sunday school there, I took part in other activities that were based there such as Wolf Cubs (now called Cub Scouts).
Cubs was, and still is, faith-based. It emphasizes “Duty to God.” It is more non-denominational today and welcomes interfaith and diverse faith backgrounds. More so than it was when I was growing up. I remember working towards a badge called the Religion and Life Emblem, which involved memorizing scripture passages and being actively involved in service opportunities. I attended public school and I remember in elementary school how the teacher would read a bible story to start the day. That was a common part of public schooling back in the day. It was standard practice. As well as reciting The Lord’s Prayer. This all took place during the 1960’s. The practice would be phased out in public schools as the 1980’s approached.
Church was a big part of so many families lives back then. There were a number of Catholic churches in our neighborhood and many of our neighbors attended them. Many of the kids we played with were from those families and I remember having arguments regarding “whose God was the real God.” I would go running to my mother and ask her, and she would assure me that there is only one God and it doesn’t matter what church you go to. The odd friend would say that they didn’t believe in God, and I remember being shocked by that. And there would be others who supposedly came from Christian families, but you never saw them at church. Even as a child, I would start to see that people see things differently and have different beliefs. As a child, your faith and beliefs will mirror that of your parents. The foundation starts in your home.
The Environment Strongly Influences The Starting Point of the Child's Faith Journey
Here is the thing about the pre-adolescent years, which some call The Wonder Years. Children inherit structure, or lack of it, from their environment. Families with clear beliefs and boundaries often will raise children who operate in a way similar to Stage 2. Chaotic or inconsistent environments can produce behaviors that look like Stage 1. The environment strongly influences the starting point of the child’s faith journey.
At this age, a child’s beliefs have normally not been internalized. Typically, they believe or think a certain way because Mom and Dad said so. They don’t question their parents. If they don’t believe in the way that they are told, they may get in trouble. Kids conform and are often dependent by necessity and not by any worldview of their own. They are imitating structure and not choosing it. They are still developing the capacity for self-reflection and owning their morality. So, children can look like Stage 2 simply because that is what has been handed to them, when in fact they are not fully there.
Children are in a developmental phase where it is really not fair or accurate to say where they are in terms of their spiritual development. They are learning structure, testing boundaries, forming their conscience, and absorbing what they see and experience in terms of truth and behavior.
Children are typically shaped by the structure—or lack of structure—around them. In stable environments, they begin to adopt order, rules, and beliefs that resemble Stage 2. In more chaotic environments, they may display behaviors that resemble Stage 1. However, because children are still developing their capacity for responsibility, self-reflection, and moral ownership, they are not fully operating within these stages yet but are growing into them.
Stage 1 environments can create chaos on a child’s path, while stage 2 environments provide a map of the path. Children don’t choose the path at first. They inherit it. Later in life, they can either accept the map, question the map, or reject the map and the path entirely.
That path is crooked, of course. Definitely not linear, and sometimes unpredictable.
Children raised in a very strict Stage 2 environment can take a sharp turn back into Stage 1 as they develop. They can rebel... There is less influence from their parents and increased influence from peers. They may experience chaos by getting in with the wrong people and making some poor choices. The path often looks like Inheriting (from their parents), then Adopting (by themselves), followed by Questioning (as they grow and develop), Rejecting (sometimes), and finally, Rebuilding (What do they truly believe?).
I look back on my own age of Inheriting... My Wonder Years. I look back on my path to the earliest times that I can recall. The earliest dots. The earliest memories. The events, the experiences, the people, and the things that happened at the “House That Built Me”, and I see how these things shaped me. I can look back and see why things happened the way they did, how things happened the way they did, and why things are the way that they are. And so can you.
We call them The Wonder years because everything is new, everything is meaningful through the eyes of a curious child, everything is full of possibility, and things have not yet been picked apart or overanalyzed. Before structure... Before doctrine... And before skepticism... There is wonder. A child experiences awe... Why is the sky blue? They experience curiosity... Where did I come from? And trust... Trust in parents, in life, and in what they are told... And their imagination blurs the lines between what is seen and not seen.
All this is neither Stage 1 or Stage 2. It is really the stage of openness. The stage of possibility. Wonder comes before structure. Before a child says, “This is right or this is wrong,” or “This is what I believe,” they say, “This is amazing,” Or they think there is something more to what they are seeing and experiencing. Thus, all the questions of a small child. Wonder is like the soil in which Stage 2 beliefs grow. And if that wonder is nurtured, then it doesn’t feel oppressive. It feels meaningful.
Teach Your Children Well - Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young
A child’s wonder is fragile. Depending on the environment, a child’s natural wonder can be encouraged, which leads to healthy curiosity and growth. It can also be overly controlled, which leads to rigid and unquestioned beliefs. It can also be shut down, neglected, or dismissed, leading to disconnection and cynicism. And that can have a big impact on how, later in life, someone relates to truth, approaches authority, and handles doubt.
The early years of life are often called “The Wonder Years” for a reason. Before we learn what to believe, before we adopt structure or question it... We experience life with a sense of awe, curiosity, and openness. This sense of wonder becomes the foundation for everything that follows. It shapes how we receive truth, how we respond to structure, and how we eventually question and rediscover meaning on our path. In many ways, spiritual growth is not just about moving forward—it is also about returning, later in life, to that same sense of wonder, but with deeper awareness and understanding.
The idea of wonder also has the potential to go full circle on your spiritual path. For those who reach Stage 4 often rediscover humility, mystery, and openness. Not in a naive way, but in something deeper. A child might say, “Wow! This is amazing!” And a mature person at Stage 4 might say, “Wow! There are still so many things that I have to learn” It is the same word... wonder... But at a completely different place on the path and in a different context.
And He said: "I tell you the truth, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. - Matthew 18:3
In this quote, Jesus is pointing to qualities that children have that adults often lose. Qualities that adults really need to recover. This is really the mindset of someone at Stage 4. Think about it...
Children are open. They are receptive. They haven't closed themselves off. They trust. They rely on something beyond themselves. They don't assume they have everything figured out. They have a sense of humility. They experience life, before over-analyzing it. And children are willing to learn and be guided.
Stage 4 is a return to openness and humility, but now with awareness. A child has a sense of openness because they don't know it yet. An adult has a sense of openness because they know they don't know everything. There is still much to learn. Mature Stage 4 spirituality is a chosen humility and a rediscovered wonder. As adults, it is returning to what was true in us before pride, certainty, and control took over. It is humility without ignorance, trust without blind obedience, and wonder without naivety.
When Jesus said we must become like little children, He wasn’t calling us back to immaturity, but forward into humility. True spiritual maturity may not be about having all the answers. The path of growth is not straight. It is a return to something that we once had, only deeper, steadier, and chosen.
We don’t start our journey with certainty. We start it with wonder. And maybe the goal isn’t to outgrow that wonder, but to find our way back to it as we connect the dots... On the Crooked Path.
Try This Exercise -
AfterNotes - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aunVlekXjkE - Our House - Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=csVaRY1ptZ0 - The Wonder Years (With a Little Help From My Friends - Joe Cocker)
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