One of the unmistakable signs that September has arrived is that backpacks suddenly begin appearing everywhere.
All summer long they have lived quiet, forgotten lives. They have been hanging from hooks in closets, buried beneath winter mittens that nobody remembered putting there, or lying under beds collecting enough dust to qualify as archaeological discoveries. Then, almost overnight, they return.
They emerge into daylight looking slightly bewildered.
Children inspect them with varying degrees of enthusiasm. Parents inspect them with considerably more urgency. Zippers are tested. Lunch containers are rediscovered. Water bottles that mysteriously vanished sometime around June are found in places where modern science insists they could not possibly have been.
I have often suspected that backpacks spend July and August holding secret conventions somewhere.
Then comes September.
Suddenly every backpack is filled with purpose.
Books replace beach towels. Pencils replace sunscreen. Calendars replace vacation brochures. The whole world seems to stand just a little straighter.
Even those of us who haven’t been students for decades somehow feel it.
There is something wonderfully hopeful about carrying what we need for the journey ahead.
That, it seems to me, is not a bad description of the Christian life.
Scripture often speaks of travelling.
Abraham leaves home without a map.
Israel wanders through the wilderness carrying the Ark of God’s presence.
The disciples travel dusty roads with Jesus.
The early Christians were not originally called Christians at all. They were known as “The Way.” Their faith was understood not merely as a set of beliefs but as a journey walked together.
God has always seemed remarkably interested in people who are on the move.
Perhaps that is because faith is never something we finish packing once and for all.
Every September reminds us that we continue learning.
There is something deeply comforting about that.
The older I become, the less interested I am in pretending that I have all the answers. Thirty-three years of ordained ministry have taught me that the Christian life is less about arriving than about remaining teachable.
There is always another lesson in grace.
Always another opportunity to forgive.
Always another invitation to grow kinder.
Always another page in the textbook that we somehow managed to skip the first dozen times we read it.
God, thankfully, has never objected to reviewing the material.
Of course, not everything belongs in a backpack.
One of the great skills students eventually learn is deciding what is actually worth carrying. If you try to take absolutely everything, your shoulders begin protesting before you reach the first classroom.
The same is true spiritually.
Many of us spend enormous amounts of energy carrying old disappointments.
Old arguments.
Old embarrassments.
Old fears.
Old versions of ourselves that God quietly finished redeeming years ago, while we kept insisting on dragging them around like extra textbooks we no longer need.
Jesus once said, “Come to me… and I will give you rest… for my yoke is easy and my burden is light.” (Matthew 11:28-30)
Notice He never promised we would carry nothing.
He simply promised we would not have to carry everything.
There is a profound difference.
Perhaps September is also God’s annual invitation to clean out the backpack of the soul.
Keep gratitude.
Pack hope.
Bring curiosity.
Carry compassion.
Don’t forget forgiveness.
Those will serve you remarkably well this year.
Leave behind resentment if you can.
It weighs far more than people realize.
And if there is still room, tuck in a healthy sense of humour.
The Kingdom of God has always travelled more comfortably with people who know how to laugh.
Stephen Leacock understood that. So did Jesus, I suspect. Anyone who nicknamed fishermen “Sons of Thunder,” compared religious leaders to whitewashed tombs, and talked about camels squeezing through the eyes of needles probably smiled more often than our stained-glass windows sometimes suggest.
The road ahead will undoubtedly contain assignments we did not choose, surprises we never expected, and perhaps a few pop quizzes in patience.
Fortunately, we do not walk it alone.
The most important thing we carry has never been our own strength.
It is the steady presence of Christ, who has been making this journey with ordinary people since long before backpacks were invented.
So shoulder your pack.
Take the next faithful step.
And if somewhere along the way you discover an old granola bar from last spring hiding in one of the pockets, consider it a gentle reminder that God specializes in accompanying wonderfully imperfect travellers.
Even in September.
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Companion Prayer
Gracious God,
As we begin this new season, help us to carry only what draws us closer to you. Fill our hearts with hope, our minds with wisdom, and our hands with kindness. Teach us to leave behind every burden that keeps us from walking freely in your grace, and remind us each day that Christ journeys beside us. May we step into September with courage, joy, and the quiet confidence that you are leading us every step of the way.
Amen.