The Elixir: How Your Story Heals Others

Part Five of the Hero's Journey Series.

Return with the Elixir

“The whole point of the journey is to come back home and give what you’ve found away.” — Joseph Campbell

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The Journey Isn’t Over Yet

Most people think the journey ends when you slay the dragon.

But if you’ve ever actually been through something big—something that cracked you open and put you back together—you know that’s not true.

The hardest part isn’t leaving.
It’s returning.

Because now you’re different.
And home isn’t.

You’ve seen things. You’ve learned things. You’ve become someone else.
And somehow… you’re supposed to carry all that back to the life you once knew—and figure out how to live there again. Or at least visit.

That’s the final step of the hero’s journey.
And it’s the one we talk about the least.

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Treasure vs. Elixir

We think the story is about the treasure.

The gold in the dragon’s lair.
The girl in the romcom.
The glory and freedom at battle’s end.

And to be fair, sometimes the hero gets the treasure.
But not always.
And even when they do, that’s not the real point.

Because the treasure is external.
The elixir is something else entirely.

The elixir is the knowing.
The wisdom.
The change that happened inside the cave, in the belly of the whale, in the place where everything broke.

The hero might bring home gold. But if they don’t bring home the elixir—
—then no one else gets to heal.

Because the elixir isn’t for you.
It’s what your story gave you that someone else might need.

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What Is an Elixir, Really?

It’s called the elixir because, in mythic language, an elixir is a healing potion.

It’s the thing that restores what was broken.
It doesn’t just change the hero—it has the power to heal the village, too.

In stories, it might be a literal cure. A vial of magic. A sacred object.

But in real life?
It’s usually a truth hard-won.
A clarity forged in suffering.
A lesson that cost you something.

The elixir is the wisdom that came from the wound.

And now, if you’re brave enough, you carry it back not as a trophy…
But as a gift.

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How I Finally Found Mine

I’ve taught this idea of the elixir for nearly 20 years.
But something happened to me in the last few months—I finally felt like I actually experienced it.

I’m sure I’ve brought back other elixirs before.
But this one was different.

Many of you know I grew up deeply religious. I was all in—Bible studies, mission trips, the whole deal. I became a pastor, a church planter, a leader in evangelical Christianity.

But my longest journey—the one I never quite wrote about publicly—was the one that took me away from all of that.

I left my normal world to seek answers to questions that haunted me.
And for years, I didn’t return.

Not because I didn’t want to.
Because I didn’t know if I could.

Would people accept me? Would what I’d learned even help anyone?
Would my new story just make old friends sad… or angry… or disappointed?

So I kept my elixir under my cloak.

I met one-on-one with dozens of people—people asking the same questions I had wrestled with for over a decade.
And I realized: my story was helping.
Not because I had answers. But because I had survived the questions.

Still, I stayed quiet. I had left that world as a preacher. Someone with a voice.
But when I returned, I was mostly mute.

Until a few months ago.

That’s when I decided to speak again.
Not to convert anyone.
But to create space for people like me—people with questions they were afraid to ask.

So six weeks ago I started Deconstructed Pastor.

Like here, I write honestly—but over there, I focus on my faith story. It’s where I share the journey that led me out of evangelicalism, the questions that unraveled my old beliefs, and the deeper, freer faith I’ve mostly pieced together now.

And guess what?

Some people are, indeed, upset about it.
Some are disappointed.
Some think I’ve lost my faith—or my mind.
Some say I never knew God. Or that I’m demon-possessed. Or that I just wanted to sin without guilt. That I’m a heretic.

Some people say that.

But most people say something else.

“Thank you.”
“This helps me.”
“I thought I was alone.”
“You’re giving me hope.”
“Your words are healing me.”

And the strangest thing?

I feel almost no shame. And almost no pride.
Even the compliments don’t puff me up.
Even the criticism doesn’t cut too deep.

I’ve been surprised by how much peace and joy I’ve felt through the process.

I think I know why.

This isn’t me.
It’s rooted in my story, my wounds, my journey.
But it’s not me.

It’s the elixir.

Something I picked up in a far-off land and brought home to my people—
to the religious folks who’ve been secretly doubting and questioning for years.

And now, all the pain?
The years of doubt, fear, depression, and confusion?

It’s weirdly worth it.

Because I see what it became.

My pain turned into hope.
And now I get to give it away.

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Becoming Who You Truly Are

And for the first time in my entire life…
I feel truly free to be me.

There’s a quote I’ve used for years—something Carl Jung said:

“The privilege of a lifetime is to become who you truly are.”

I’ve taught that. I’ve believed it.

But only recently have I actually experienced it.

And—to sound just a little evangelical again for a second—I can testify that it’s true.

I’m not who I used to be.
But I’m not lost anymore.

I’m home.
I’m whole.
And I have something to give.

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What’s in Your Cloak?

It took me my whole life to get to the elixir for that story.
Yours might take decades too. And that’s okay.

But I also have other stories—smaller journeys.
Ones that lasted a few months. A few years.
I’ve picked up other elixirs along the way.
They’re tucked in the folds of my cloak, waiting for the right moment.

And you have some, too.

Maybe as you read this, you thought of one.
A time when you went through something hard, came out the other side, and quietly carried the wisdom with you.

That’s your elixir.

And maybe—just maybe—it’s time to stop hiding it.

Not for attention. Not to be the hero.
But because someone needs it.

Because stories heal when they’re shared.

And because part of becoming who you truly are…
is learning how to give away what you almost died to find.