It’s only the BEGINNING!
There’s something humbling about starting over, especially when you thought you were already settled.
Recently, I decided to comb out my locs after six years. What began as an impulsive decision quickly turned into a journey of patience, pain, and unexpected lessons about healing and growth. My hair had been my look, a reflection of so many seasons of my life. But as I sat there with conditioner, a wide-tooth comb, and four seasons of Criminal Minds, I grew more frustrated. Unraveling each loc strand by strand, I realized I wasn’t just taking out hair I was letting go of chapters of myself.
And as the last loc unraveled, I looked in the mirror and thought, “Why am I doing this?”
My hair was dry, fragile, and damaged in some areas, and multiple shades of brown. I wanted a fresh start, but the picture-perfect “after” moment wasn’t there yet. I had imagined my hair to look much different than what I saw. I had convinced myself that it would be a shoulder-length, curly mane of glory. But what I thought would immediately feel beautiful was a reminder of the work and time that was about to begin. Who knew combing out my locs was only the beginning?
There’s a quiet space no one talks about the one where you’re in between what used to be and what God is calling you to become. The undoing and the becoming. In this space, you feel alone, tired, in pain, and everything is unclear. I can say that by day two of combing my locs out, I was coming undone. My shoulders ached from combing, my thumb was numb, and my finger bled from jamming a comb into it. I was a wreck and I was alone. No help and no real direction. In the space between undoing and becoming, that’s where we do the deepest work. Over the next two days, after combing my hair out, I had to deep condition and nourish something I hadn’t fully planned out.
I kept wanting to rush to the finished look: healthy curls, moisture, shine, growth. But the process wouldn’t let me. Every wash day, every deep treatment, every tangle reminded me that restoration takes time. My frustration only grew because what I thought I could handle was more than I had planned to take on. God was showing me that the best results take time and the work that needs to be done goes beyond the surface.
That hit me hard. Because isn’t that how we feel sometimes? We pray, we fast, we commit to change but when the results don’t show up right away, we start questioning if we made the right decision. And I questioned, twenty minutes into day one of combing, if I was making the right decision.
But God reminded me of Philippians 1:6 (NIV):
“Being confident of this, that He who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus.”
He’s not finished yet and neither am I.
My story reminds me a lot of the story of Lot’s wife. They were given the word to leave the city of Sodom and Gomorrah, filled with sin and rebellion. They were told clearly:
“Flee for your lives! Don’t look back, and don’t stop anywhere in the plain! Flee to the mountains or you will be swept away!”
— Genesis 19:17 (NIV)
Lot, his wife, and their daughters began their escape. But as fire and sulfur rained down on the city, Lot’s wife looked back and in that instant, she turned into a pillar of salt (Genesis 19:26).
Her story ends in a single verse, but it echoes through generations as a symbol of what happens when we long for what God has already delivered us from. Lot’s wife didn’t just look back out of curiosity her glance revealed her heart. She was leaving Sodom, but Sodom hadn’t left her. Even as God was rescuing her, she couldn’t fully release what was behind her the familiarity, the comfort, maybe even the identity she built in that place.
Jesus later referenced her story in Luke 17:32, saying simply:
“Remember Lot’s wife.”
He didn’t say that to shame her, but to remind us that attachment to the past can keep us from walking into the promise.
When you think about your hair journey or any moment where God invites you to start fresh it’s easy to feel like Lot’s wife. You begin the process, but your heart keeps glancing back at what used to be:
The comfort of what’s familiar
The beauty of what once was
The version of yourself that felt “put together”
But God can’t heal what you keep running back to.
Just like Lot’s wife, if we fix our eyes on what’s behind us, we risk becoming stuck and frozen between what was and what could be.
Moving Forward
Sometimes, starting over feels like loss. You’re letting go of something that once felt like home, even if it wasn’t healthy anymore. But remember this:
God never calls you to leave something without preparing something better ahead.
When you step into a new season like restoring your hair, rebuilding your faith, or renewing your purpose you’re not going backward. You’re being prepared for what’s next.
So when you’re tempted to look back and ask, “Why doesn’t it look how it used to?”, remember:
“Forget the former things; do not dwell on the past.
See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it?”
— Isaiah 43:18–19 (NIV)
Your next is only just the beginning. I can’t get my locs back even on the days I wish I could. I can only grow, nourish, and take care of what’s next.
Walk the road. Challenge the norm. Let God lead.
With grace,
Kennedy Robinson
