Trust is hard. Leaps of faith are scary. But sometimes – sometimes they lead you here. To safety. To unspeakable joys, to a life of gratitude you didn’t know was even possible.
You know when you’re walking down a road, you think you know where you’re going, and suddenly you realize you don’t? There are forks in the road, you don’t know which one is safe to take, and which isn’t. So where do you go? You could just stop walking, sit down in the road and hope life comes to you while you sit there. Or, you take a deep breath, say a prayer, and take one of the paths before you.
My friend Julie posted the above paragraph and beautiful quote to her Instagram account and it honestly brought a tear to my eye. I completely understand what she means. I’m there – that fork in the road – I’m in that place. So her words hit home. Much like the words of my good friend Omar Reyes’ guest post last week – Faith, Life Uncertainty and the Look of Courage.
I’ve been sitting at this fork for a while. I’ve been prayerfully careful. I’ve surrendered everything I can think to surrender so I can hear that still small voice. I have thought more about Moses and Joshua and Abraham and David and Hannah and Mary (the list goes on) than ever before because The Bible has become so real to me.
Faith is raw and real when a big decision needs to be made and I have stared in both directions for quite some time.
One path is understandable. It makes sense to me. I look into the distance and I see how it all unravels. It’s straight shooting and enjoyable. There are a few hills and dips, yes, but nothing that could throw me into a frenzy. To be honest, there’s absolutely nothing wrong with the road. It’s good. It would be a good choice. Something tells me I would have a good life.
But something is pulling me to change, to growth, to adventure, to pursue, to seek out deeper faith. Something is drawing me to the road I cannot understand – to the road with steep climbs and big drops. I have no idea what’s waiting for me, yet I feel drawn to it because my heart hears, “Will you trust me?”
So with loud pounding of the heart I take a step. Immediately I feel anticipation and anxiety. Immediately I question if this is reckless or radical. But immediately I feel alive. Immediately I feel at peace. He is near.
For those of you there – in the beautiful unknown – know that there IS more. It’s okay to ask that question. It’s okay to wonder. It’s okay to spend time in that place of struggle so you feel alive in your faith once again.
Faith is not a list of rules and regulations, nor is it a self-disciplining commitment to weekly attend. It’s a place of active surrender and obedience that makes you feel alive with trust and wonder as you rely on His strength, not your own. He will never leave you nor forsake you.
Thank you Julie, you could have never known how timely your words would be.
So for those of you in that place, I leave you with this:
New can be hard. It can be scary. It can be a lot of work and heavy lifting. New can take some getting used to. But new is also full of promise and opportunity. I love that when we are willing to lean into the transition, rather than resisting it, we get to experience all the beauty and joy new seasons bring.