Doubting a Compass

Because I’m a hunter, I’ve had to learn the value of owning a compass. But just because you have a compass doesn’t mean it’s always helpful. Compasses have to be believed in order to work.

A few years ago, a friend invited me on a hunting excursion on North Manitou Island just off the coast of Leland, Michigan. Though we knew there weren’t many deer there, we thought the adventure of camping, hiking, and hunting would still be worth the effort. All our provisions and gear had to be carried on and off the island on our back, so packing efficiently was critical. But one item that made it into my pack was a compass. Wandering around lost was not an experience I wanted in a strange place. Sure, you could only get so lost on an island before you found water, but North Manitou Island is eight miles long and that’s plenty of room to wander.

After a day of hiking and scouting, I had an idea of where I wanted to hunt. I set off alone to the south end of island for an evening hunt. My goal was to walk straight south for 15 minutes off the well-marked trail. Then I would sit for a couple of hours until dark, then walk back north for 15 minutes and find the trail that would lead me back to camp. My compass would be important to doing this right.

As I set out off on the trail, I set my watch for time and my compass for direction. Fifteen minutes later, I found a place to hunker down and watch the woods for deer. As I settled in, I eyed the direction that I would need to exit, visually marking a few trees to indicate where I’d walk first when it got dark. Since there weren’t any deer to see, my mind wandered during that hunt. All I could think about was navigating my way back to the trail in the dark. I knew that if I walked in the wrong direction, I’d end up at Lake Michigan, where steep cliffs lined the shoreline. Looking toward the direction I planned to exit, I reminded myself that I knew the way back to the path.

Something happens to your perception in the woods as the day loses light. As darkness fell, I found myself doubting what I remembered. I doubted the direction I was facing and I doubted the tree markers I had set up in my mind to guide my exit. As my vision became shortened, everything seemed to change. I took a minute to reassess my surroundings and grew confident again on the direction back to the trail. When my hunt ended, I set my watch for 15 minutes and began to walk in that confident direction, checking my compass to be sure. As the needle settled to indicate which way was north, I was shocked. I was walking south… so the compass indicated. I shook the compass with my left hand and tapped the top with my right hoping to see the needle move and point in my direction. But again, it told the same story—I was walking in the wrong direction. “Now that can’t be right!” I said aloud. “This stupid thing isn’t working.” I tapped it once again, hoping for a different outcome, but the needle settled in the same place. I looked around my surroundings to find my tree markers but darkness had made every tree blur in the shadows. Then it hit me. I was in an emotional argument with a compass… and I was losing. I was doubting the wisdom of a compass! I was telling a tool uniquely crafted for the purpose of determining direction with scientific certainty that it was completely wrong. In my mind, the tool that had guided me to that very place was now unable to guide me back. I was at a crossroads. Do I trust my intuition or the compass? Against everything my five human senses were telling me, I determined to believe the compass. I reset my watch and began to walk toward the compass’s version of north. Fifteen minutes later, I found the trail. Imagine that!

Why would someone doubt a compass? Why would I ever think my intuition, emotion, memory or experience would ever be better than the data that compass could give me? The simple answer is that doubt is a powerful force. Doubt creeps in. Doubt asks questions—some good, some not. Doubt wrestles with what is known. And, though doubt can spot an imposter, it can also devalue the genuine. So, what do we do when faced with doubts; doubts about things more important than finding hunting trails?

There’s a man in the Bible who became known for his doubt. His nickname has become Doubting Thomas. Thomas was a guy you may not suspect as having reasons for doubt. He was one of the Twelve who lived with Jesus for three years. He heard Jesus’ teaching. He saw Jesus’ miracles. He believed and he followed with devotion and commitment…until Jesus died. Then doubt crept in. It raised questions. It wrestled with what Thomas thought he knew about Jesus. It devalued Jesus’ authenticity. In the end, when the report came that Jesus was raised from the dead, Thomas couldn’t believe it until he saw with his own eyes. But, it’s not that Thomas doubted that amazes me most in this story, it’s how Jesus responded to him in his doubt.

“…I won’t believe it unless I see the nail wounds in his hands, put my fingers into them, and place my hand into the wound in his side.” Eight days later the disciples were together again, and this time Thomas was with them. The doors were locked; but suddenly, as before, Jesus was standing among them. “Peace be with you,” he said. 27 Then he said to Thomas, “Put your finger here, and look at my hands. Put your hand into the wound in my side. Don’t be faithless any longer. Believe!” John 20.25-27 NLT

When Thomas was faced with a “compass moment,” Jesus did something very intimate with him. Notice he focused directly on Thomas. Notice the invitation to touch places on Jesus’ person that were places of extreme pain and suffering. Would he believe the One who was sent to reveal truth? Would he follow his compass again?

I love the fact there are stories in the Bible of people who struggled with belief and doubt. It does my heart good to see how Jesus helped them navigate through times of being lost and disoriented. He’s a tender Savior who invites us to reach out and embrace him in our days of doubt and struggle.