Have you ever been between a rock and a hard place? You know those places where the pains so great everything inside you just wants to quit.

As a counselor, I regularly talk with people about quitting — quitting their marriages, jobs, children, friends, relationships, hobbies and their dreams.

All the conversations are different and ironically they’re all the same The pain of continuing seems to far outweigh quitting and ending the ongoing hurt. They’ve reached their tolerance threshold for their painful problem.

In the final analysis, one question matters most. Why are you here?

It reminds me of my basic training days in the Army. We started with hundreds of recruits and eight weeks later less than half graduated.

Half way through I came face to face with quitting. I remember exactly where I was when it happened. It was a morning run like every morning, except I felt this awful pulling on the bottom of my left foot. (I would eventually realize my arch collapsed and later be diagnosed with planters fasciitis.)

I continued running in formation for almost another mile. By then, the pain became excruciating and I dropped out.

Someone approached me demanding my I.D. tags and screaming at me for dropping out. It was still dark so I couldn’t see who it was, but I didn’t care, knowing I wasn’t going to continue running four more weeks in this kind of pain. I was done.

Then it happened. One of the fiercest conversations, I’ve ever had. It was life changing. I was told I had to report to the first sergeant to retrieve my I.D. tags and begin out process.

I was not prepared for what happened next.

He didn’t say a word. He just kept examining me with his eyes. The silence was deafening and seemingly screamed, “How dare you drop out of formation during a run!”

Then he spoke, “Who gave you permission to quit my run?”

My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth. I struggled to gather words. For a moment, I felt like there was now a fourth person in the Holy Trinity. And he was able to see right through me with those soul-piercing eyes.

I still couldn’t speak. I was so intimidated by the power of his eyes. Then he whispered these words, “You’re in pain aren’t you?”

“Yes, something’s really wrong with my foot it hurts bad,” I desperately replied.

Then with more authority then any person who’s ever softly whispered anything to me, he said, “Block it out.”

I thought, to myself, how do I do that? Then he said those words that have never left me, “Kimble, why are you here?”

Suddenly, I understood what he was saying. I needed a reason for being in basic bigger than my pain; bigger than myself.

Knowing why I was really here would provide meaning in the midst of my pain. And by constantly focusing on the real meaning and purpose of being here, I would be able to block out the pain.

I didn’t checkout that day, but discovered my reason for never, ever quitting. My foot hurt worse every day, but my reason enabled me to never fall out of another run.

As I write this, I realize how full of meaning this memory is for me. Because of the intense pain, I was able to fully experience the deeper purpose and reason behind my basic training experience.

Winston Churchill once said, “Never, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, give up. Never give up. Never give up. Never give up.” He also said, “Never give in, never give in, never, never, never – in nothing great or small, large or petty — never give in except to convictions of honor and good sense.”

In your moment of pain, may you discover the answer to that probing question: “Why are you here?” And may your answer add meaning to your life empowering you to see your pain pregnant with purpose. May your purpose build an unshakable resolve to never, ever quit on anything great or small that adds meaning to your life and the lives surrounding you.

And may life send you a first sergeant to help you put your pain into proper prospective. Prodding you to give up on your little reasons in exchange for much bigger reasons, allowing you to focus on the reality of why you are here.

I guess the real questions isn’t have you ever been between a rock and a hard place before, but rather what’s bigger: Your pain or your purpose for being where you are right now?

Dr. T.J. Kimble of Radcliff is a clinical pastoral counselor. He can be reached at tj@yourbestlifenowcounseling.com.