Taking the Next Right Step When You Don't Know Where You're Going

I used to worry (and still do, sometimes) about missed opportunities.  If I wasn’t alert and didn’t carefully consider every possible choice I could make, I was going to miss out on something! Something big! My whole future might be at stake!  I might miss a social outing and not meeting my future husband! (cue laugh track.)  It sounds hilarious now, but those were real, true, fears in my younger years. 

As a parent, I used to worry (and still do sometimes) about missed opportunities for my kids.  For my family.  What if I don’t read a book that could change the course of my parenting?  What if there’s an extra curricular activity for Marshall that’s perfect for him? What I miss the chance to help him meet a life long friend?  What if I’m ruining Joey by letting him live in the shadows of Marshall?  Our culture tells us that more is best—more sports teams, more swim lessons, more art classes, more. More. More. It’s one thing to miss an opportunity for myself—but can I handle the weight of missing one for my boys?

I used to want to know it all.  I thought it was my job to know my future—or at least have a blueprint.  After all, if I didn’t make a plan, who would?  If I didn’t carve the path out in front of me, how could I expect it to be there? A predominant message today is that the future is ours if we take it by the reigns-- eat right, choose the right college, make lots of money, and invest wisely.  Raise your kids without electronics (or with all the electronics to give them every advantage!), and only feed them vegetables (or a balanced diet full of protein!) and never expose them to any germs (or expose them to all the germs so they gain immunity!)  Life seemingly hinges on a set of right or wrong choices. 

But you know what?  The future isn’t ours.  We’re just not that powerful. No amount of money, fame, security or worry can halt a storm, calm a sea, move a mountain or stop the passage of time.  No human body, no matter how healthy we eat or how much we run, will ever be invincible.  I hate to break it to you: you’re not in control.  And neither am I. 

In the face of this reality, it’s easy to swing one way or the other—to worry ourselves into believing we are in control, or to adopt a laissez faire approach of ignorance and apathy.  I can identify with both mindsets—sometimes in the same week.  I’m no less prone to fear, worry or apathy than any other human on the planet.  I won’t claim to have it all together—show up unannounced to my house and you’ll see it plain and simple—but I will say that over the last few years, I’ve been more at peace than ever before.  And it all hinges on how I start my day.

It always begins the same way—I stumble down the stairs and collapse into my favorite chair.  I drink my coffee (with Nut Pods creamer, of course) and breathe. As the caffeine kicks in and the fog lifts a little, I write down my prayers in a journal, read my Bible, and set my mind for the day.

I don’t worry (as much) anymore.  The barrage of thoughts and decisions and fears and concerns and lists that enter my mind constantly has a filter.  When I sit each morning and spill my guts to the Creator of the universe, a crazy thing happens.

The more I empty, the more He fills.  The more I open up, the less I fear.  The more I ask, the more He answers.  Not right away.  Not always in the way I want to hear it.  But I can tell you with great confidence that I am in the palm of His hand.  No amount of money, fear, pain or even tragedy can take me from that place.  I’ve known that logically since I came to Christ as a fifth grader, but in my late 20s and early 30s, I’m learning it anew.  My confidence in my faith is built on watching Him answer my prayers and fulfill His promises in my life. In fact, my journal is a convenient written record of these truths when my faith wavers or my fears return. What initially began as an act of obedience has turned into my favorite time of the day— I wouldn’t trade my quiet time for anything.

In the years since Wes and I have committed to this habit, a lot of big things have come our way.  We’ve wrestled with who Marshall is and how to best help him.  We’ve given up a home we loved in a town we adored to follow the still small voice of the Lord.  I walked away from a job (and friends!) I looked forward to every single day.  I stayed home and, begrudgingly, started writing.  I began a new job with new people in a new town just in time for Wes to lose his job a few months later.  The last few years have been filled to the brim with twists, turns and intersections that were truly rooted in the quiet moments we spent each morning with the Lord.  Had we relied on our own logic and not the still small voice of the Lord, I’m not sure where we would be today.  And to be honest, I have no idea where we’re going—only that we are in the palm of the Lord’s hand.  Each day I’m a little more thankful it’s His palm and not mine.

The Bible doesn’t say I have to have a quiet time.  It doesn’t say I need a chair and a blanket or coffee.  It doesn’t say I have to write out my prayers.  But you know what the Bible does talk about, time and time again?  Spending time alone with God.  Seeking Him and listening to what He might have to say.  Pouring our guts out and laying it all at His feet.  Moses. Joseph. Jesus. Mary. David. Daniel. Esther. They may not have had the luxury of an alarm clock or coffee or a warm blanket, but they found time alone with the Lord.

Maybe you’re thinking you don’t know where to start.
Maybe you’re not really sure what you believe.
Maybe you think it’s too late.
Maybe you think you don’t have time.
Maybe you’re afraid to let it all out.
Maybe you’re afraid of what He might say.

Whatever it is that’s holding you back, the Bible tells us that God’s mercies are new each morning.  He’s a God who has been using the not-good-enoughs, the nobodies, the screw-ups and the late-bloomers to tell His story for centuries.
It’s not too late.
You’re not alone.
And even if you don’t know Him yet—He knows you. 
Right down to the hairs on your head.

I’m far from perfect and I’m not sure where I’m headed, but you know what? He’s not done with me yet.

He’s not done with You yet, either.  I wonder if you’ll hear Him out?