Backpacks

Remember when you were a kid and it was time for back-to-school shopping? Most of us got excited about it—picking out the coolest supplies, whether it was your pencil box, the latest Trapper Keeper, or a new school bag. Going back to actual school wasn’t always the best feeling, but at least you showed up with some really awesome supplies.

For me, I loved Lisa Frank everything. I had the bright colored folders with the famous golden retriever on them, and my pencil collection had one of every character. But my backpack, oh, it was the best. You could see me coming from a mile away. It was drenched in bright pinks and purples with the iconic Lisa Frank unicorns, jumping over rainbows in the sky. Hanging my backpack up on the hook that very first day was such a good feeling. There it was, Samantha’s backpack. It was all mine, filled with all the supplies I had picked out. I couldn’t wait for the moment the teacher would say, “Okay, let’s unpack our backpacks and put away our supplies.”

The teacher, though, always had a different timeline than I did. As a child, it was hard to understand why she wouldn’t let us unpack immediately on the first day. Why did she want us to find our seat first, or take attendance, or count lunches, or introduce ourselves to other kids? Why was she asking us to do everything BUT unpack our bags? We were all so eager to not only get everything unpacked but also to start using our new pencils and folders!

Honestly, it was like buying new shoes but not being able to wear them so everyone could see, they just sat there in the closet. I wanted to get my supplies out and show them off!

Now, as an adult, I still have a backpack. Two actually. One is for my photography gear: my camera and several lenses. The other is for traveling with my laptop, which, lately, goes almost everywhere with me. That bag also holds my planner (yes, a physical one), pens, maybe a snack, and, since I’m over 40, a bottle of Advil.

These backpacks go with me often. Some days I even carry both. They aren’t pink or purple with unicorns or puppies, but they still protect and carry what’s inside. Yet I don’t always unpack them fully.

In fact, my camera bag never gets completely unpacked. I always take out the camera body and then just the lens I think suits the job. Once I’ve chosen, I zip the bag back up, throw it over my shoulder, and start shooting. Sometimes one lens is all I need. Other times, I dig back in for another lens to get a different perspective.

But never do I pull out all five lenses at once. If I did, there’s a good chance something would get damaged or lost.

Recently, during one of my EMDR sessions and again during prayer journaling, I had a visual of Jesus carrying a backpack. Something you should know about me: I’m a very visual person. It’s easy for me to see images during meditative times.

If you’ve ever watched The Chosen, you know that Jonathan Roumie, who plays Jesus, carries a leather satchel. It’s a simple brown leather bag with shoulder straps. The show doesn’t often show Him putting much in it, but the way He carries it makes it clear that it holds something important. He takes it off when He arrives at a destination and puts it back on when He leaves. He rarely goes anywhere without it.

From the first time I noticed it, that backpack caught my attention. It’s no Lisa Frank, it’s plain in comparison. No fancy zippers or snaps, no purple or pink, no thermos pockets, and no dangling unicorn keychains. Just a square, brown leather bag with a flap and straps. And yet, it drew me in. So much so that I told my bestie I wanted to find one like it online.

Back to my visual: during EMDR, I was reflecting on the time I was in the hospital after losing my arm in the school bus accident. I pictured Jesus in the ICU room, standing by my bed. And you know what He had with Him?

His backpack.

There He was, my strong, steady protector, stationed by my bedside, carrying His leather backpack. As I saw this, a wave of clarity and understanding came over me. I knew that my belongings were inside His backpack. I didn’t need to know exactly what they were. I just knew they were mine.

And in that knowing, I cried.

I cried because, how special must I be in Jesus’ eyes for Him to carry my things in His backpack?

If you’ve never experienced EMDR, it can be hard to wrap your mind around how vivid these moments are. So, let me share another “ah-ha” moment I had about this backpack during prayer journaling.

To be transparent, I’ve been struggling with what’s next for me. I feel a deep calling, but I can’t seem to reach it. As I poured out those fears to Jesus (and that's what prayer journaling is, just being honest with Him like He is sitting across the table having coffee with you) He reminded me of that vision of Him standing in the ICU with His backpack.

So I paused my writing and sat with it.

Jesus carries a backpack for all of us.

And what’s in it?

The promises He has for us.

The blessings and miracles.

The grace.

The love.

But just like my first-grade teacher didn’t let us unpack everything at once, and just like I only take one lens out of my photography bag at a time, Jesus doesn’t unpack everything in His backpack all at once.

If He did, the blessings wouldn’t be there when we actually needed them. If He poured out all the grace at once, we’d face future hardships without it.

His backpack is full.

But only He knows what’s inside and the correct order in which to unpack it.

And we can trust Him with that, or at least try to.

It’s hard, I know. So many times, I want Him to open that bag just so I can peek inside. Isn’t there at least a map in there? A contents sheet?

But it isn’t our job to know.

Our job is to trust that the One carrying the backpack knows exactly what’s inside, and exactly when we’ll need it.

“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” — Jeremiah 29:11

So while we may not get to peek inside His backpack, we can rest in knowing that His plans are already packed and prepared for us. He unpacks them in His timing, not ours, and His timing is always good.