I have no idea what I am supposed to be doing. 

Today is just one of those days. 

I question the path that brought me here. Did I make a wrong turn somewhere along the way?

I wonder if I somehow took the reigns away from God, trying to steer my own vehicle to a place in which I thought I belonged. 

All I am sure of, for today, at least, is that I have more questions than answers. 

And that feeling of being abandoned is always so quick to return. 

I started the day giving these feelings to God. He already knew I was struggling. I asked Him, instead, to fill me with peace. His peace. And reveal the plan. His plan. 

And He asked me to believe His promises. He asked me to trust Him. Not myself, nor my talents, nor my networking abilities, nor my marketing techniques. He just said to leave all my questions there, with Him, and focus on what I already know about Him. 

There comes a time in every relationship when you have to look only into the eyes of the other, ignoring the advice of others, and choose to go deeper with each other. No one else. 

That's the beauty of living a life of abandon. It is difficult, at times. Lonely on most days, since my path was carved out for me alone. But when pressed to flee or trust Him enough to go deeper, I know to go deeper. That this is part of the journey that prepares me for whatever lies ahead. This is simply a season; my winter months, with their naked grayness, that seem to accomplish nothing. 

My search for answers led me to the book of Romans, where Paul had some strong words for people like me, who were teetering between focusing on their doubts or clinging to their faith. 

Romans 14:23...and everything that does not come from faith is sin.  

Ouch. 


I realize that my doubts come from my circumstances, but never from my God. As I look deep into those eyes, I see a slight twinkle, and trust that this journey, wherever it may be leading, will be worth it. 

And for today, I choose faith. 

What about you?

There comes a moment when you have to let go. 

To lay it on the altar. 

All of it. 

Whatever is troubling you. 

Whatever hurts or letdowns you might have from the past. 

Whatever ideas you may have had about how life was supposed to go. 

Rejections. Disappointments. Bitterness. Brokenness. Failures. Unforgiveness. Unanswered questions. 

The past. 

And with that comes the freedom to embrace the future. 

This is truly a difficult thing to do. We think we must protect ourselves; to make sure we never get hurt again. If we stay angry, on guard, we will surely hurt less in the future. 

But the opposite is true. By holding on to the pains of the past, we imprison ourselves from the possibilities of the future. Our paths are not yet chosen; there is much to be explored. Hopes. Dreams. Opportunities. Surprises.     Unexpected answers. Growth. Healing. Freedom. By letting go, and laying it all at the altar, we are proving to God that we trust Him with our future. Looking back over the many stories in scripture, everyone was required to let go of something when God called. 

Peter had to let go of the boat in order to walk on the water. 

Jonah had to let go of his plans in order to be rescued from the belly of the fish. 

Moses had to let go of his fears in order to become the leader God called him to be. 

Paul, who once was Saul, had to let go of his eyesight, briefly, in order to truly see. 

The woman at the well had to let go of her search for love and acceptance  in all the wrong places, in order to truly find it.

Noah had to let go of his reputation. 

Matthew had to let go of his career. 

Mary had to let go of her childhood. 

Joseph had to let go of his doubts about Mary. 

Thomas had to let go of his own explanations. 

Even Jesus had to let go of his own will. 
 He pleaded for God to find another way, but accepted his answer willingly. 

I recently found myself in an odd place.

Alone.

Abandoned, if you will.

I was at church, returning a few items that I had borrowed for an event. That in itself it not so odd.

What was rare is that I found myself in the building completely alone.

It was a holiday, so the staff members that normally would have been there were at home, with their families.

Drawn into the sanctuary, I started singing the words to one of my favorite songs.

"It's just You and me here now. Only You and me here now..."

I wandered in and took a seat on the front pew.  Then, I remembered a time when I had been there before.

Alone.

Abandoned, if you will.

It was almost 28 years ago, when this auditorium was still being built. I probably wasn't supposed to be in there at the time, but had sneaked past the "Caution" tape to spend a few minutes alone with God.

I could still smell the drywall paste on the walls that surrounded me. There were no lights inside; the only source of light leaked through the openings that would soon hold the entrance doors, casting larger than life shadows across the stage. The beams above me creaked and groaned, as if warning that I should not have been there. It should have been enough to cause me to flee from the almost finished building.

But fear was the last thing I was feeling.

On that day, I laid on the newly installed pews, some still covered in plastic where they were finishing the final touches. I buried my face in my hands, and cried uncontrollably.

That was the reason I had gone in there.

God and I both knew it.

I splayed before Him my situation; my unanswered questions; my greatest fears.

I confessed my mistakes, asked for forgiveness, and then wondered if there was some way He might still bless my future.


There, in that auditorium, when I had burst past the 'Caution' tape of life, God met me.

And He said "yes."

He promised to walk with me through some of the most trying times of my life.

And those times soon became the most triumphant times of my life.

Because of Him.

Because I sought Him.

Because I met Him there.

Alone. On the front pew.

Abandoned, if you will.

Looking back, I realized that my questions from 28 years ago were answered in ways I didn't even have the strength or faith to dream of back then. My 'ending' much happier than I deserved.

I left there, keenly aware of the gift of perspective. it changed everything, once I focused on all that God has done, rather than on what He is yet to do. 

In both instances, almost 28 years apart from each other, I found what I was looking for. I left singing the same song that brought me there.

"It's just You and me here now. Only You and me here now...."

Can you share a time when God intervened and provided a much happier ending than you thought possible?

I am on a path that leads somewhere. 

At least, I hope it does. 
Every day, I face numerous decision points. 

Should I do this, or that?

Go this way or that way?

Spend or save?

Eat out or stay in?

Sometimes, the choices are huge. Life-changing. Family-altering. 

Accept the transfer, or find a new job?

Buy or rent?

Move, or stay?

Go on a mission trip?

Audition for that role?

Apply for that promotion?

Go away for college?

So many decisions. So many unknowns. So much room for doubt. 

I've come to recognize that I make better choices when I focus on the long-term, rather than the short-term.  If I save now, I will have more to spend later. If I exercise now, I will feel better later. If I invest in a relationship now, it will be stronger later. 

The bigger picture matters more than the one that I can currently see. As a matter of fact, when I am in the midst of the confusion of day-to-day life, from my point of view, it rarely makes sense. I feel like I am spinning my wheels, going nowhere at times. I feel as if I am accomplishing nothing in the short-term, which gives me reason to doubt the long-term. I need signs of progress along the way, and some days, there simply are none. 

Some days, I feel as if I am stuck. 

 I long to be at the end of this journey, crossing the finish line in triumph, and proving to the world that this was the right path. If this is a marathon, my marathon, I feel ill-prepared, as if I trained for the wrong race. 
But God is still here. He lifts my eyes to His. He guides my steps, even if they are going much slower than I had hoped.This is my journey, and He led me here. And that is enough for me. Because I may not know where this path, here on earth, is leading. But I do know that in the end, it leads me to Heaven, and straight into His arms. So, for today, I am focusing on the unseen. The eternal.The end. 

II Corinthians 4:18 - So, we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, and what is unseen is eternal. 

Can you share a time that you doubted your own journey, but later found proof of ways that God was working all along?

I love my morning walks. Alone, with the wind blowing through my hair. I marvel at the sky, the way the trees form an arc over my path, kissing me with leaves as I walk underneath. The sun warms my shoulders, keeping my focus upward, rather than on my feet. 

When I look down, I see no further than the next step. When I look straight ahead, I see no further than the next bend, unsure of where the path leads. But by looking upward, I know enough to keep walking, trusting that I cannot see the big picture from my perspective. So, I keep walking. 

Sometimes, I question whether or not I am on the right path. Should I turn around, and go back? Did I make a wrong turn?  How did I get here, and what if this particular path makes a fool out of me?

With writing, I seek acceptance, approval, publication. With speaking, I seek opportunity, and covet the immediate feedback of the expressions on the faces of my audience. With the job search, I seek interviews, acceptance, approval, and a paycheck. 

It is difficult to wait, and I cannot simply choose to do nothing. Instead, I keep walking. Maybe this path leads through a valley. Still, I keep walking. This path is lonely, but God is with me. I know this. I grow from this. I recognize all that falls beyond my control. I respect it. I appreciate it. I hurt from it. But, I choose to keep walking. 

On the most futile of days, I am reminded of the story of the apostles after the death of Jesus, found in John 21. Jesus had been crucified before them, and at that moment, they all felt like fools. They thought he was powerful enough to stop it; to perform some sort of miracle. So when he died, so did they, in a sense. They quickly returned to the only thing they knew before he came into their lives. Fishing. They were experts. With fishing, it was much easier to measure success than trying to introduce God to His own world. They felt like failures, and after spending a night fishing, and catching nothing, they confirmed their worst fears. Exhausted, discouraged, filled with doubt, they were too weary to even contemplate their next move. 

Jesus called out to them through the morning fog. They didn't recognize his voice, and his advice made little sense. 

"Throw your net on the right side of the boat, and you will find some fish." 

As if fish only swam on the right side of the boat? Still, maybe to prove him wrong, they did as he said. 

They were the experts, calling the shots, and were trying to do it alone. But Jesus was waiting to be acknowledged, to be invited to join them, to be a part of all that they did, even if it was simply fishing. 

As a result, the net became so full of fish that they had to tow it behind them to shore.  One of the disciples dove into the water, anxious to see Jesus face to face. 

Jesus built a fire on the shore, asking them to bring some of the fish they had caught. He then prepared breakfast for them, recognizing their most immediate need of hunger, and they ate together. 

This is how I view my morning walks. It is our time to eat together, where I splay out my concerns to Jesus, and He reassures me. He feeds me. He holds me, and then, out of love, gently directs my next steps. 

So, I walk, even when I am not sure where I am going. I have learned enough to keep walking.

Proverbs 3:6 - In all your ways, acknowledge him, and he shall direct your paths. 


Can you share a time when God changed the direction of your path?

Surrender. 

It is never my first response to a problem. 

I usually try to work it out on my own; to come up with my own solution. But often, I end up spinning my wheels, accomplishing nothing more than sheer exhaustion. 

Surrender feels like a sign of weakness; a last resort, something I consider only after all else has failed. 

"I cannot take it anymore, Lord. Please help me." 

It is only when I finally utter those words that I open myself up to God's answer to my troubles. Once I trust Him to walk me through it, I must also trust His answer to my prayer. 

It is for this reason that I think God loves to hear those words. "I cannot take it anymore. I surrender. I give up. Take this cup from me." 


Because it is in that exact moment that I finally understand how much I need a Savior.  He never meant for me to do this alone, so once I am brought to my knees, at the foot of the cross, on the brink of surrender, what God wants for me and what I want for me are one and the same. When my heart is ready to submit, my will completely broken, God is free to put me back together as He sees fit. 

I can't help but wonder how different the paths of my life might be if I learn to first surrender my will, without wasting time and energy on temporary answers. 

What about you? Is there a time in your life that you chose to surrender your will, and God was finally able to reveal His plan for you?

Psalm 51:17 - My sacrifice, O God, is a broken spirit; a broken and contrite heart you, God, will not despise. 

It can be frightening. The wilderness. It's what lies between the starting point and our destination. With no defined boundaries, the wilderness can feel like a mistake; an obstacle, a wrong turn that leads to unidentified dangers, regrets and unanswered questions. 

How did I get here? Why is this taking so long? Am I going the right way? Am I lost? Is there anything happening at all, or am I simply wasting my time?

Wilderness moments are daunting. Powerful. Revealing. They leave us feeling alone, and cause us to question our beliefs. We doubt ourselves, our future, and even our purpose.  

Wilderness moments. We do what we can to avoid them. Better to stay with the group, even if we sense that God is calling us to something bigger, than to wander off to our own wilderness moments. 

Alone. 

But when you think about it, that is the beauty of our wilderness moments. We have to face them alone. It is in the wilderness that our distractions are limited, so we are finally able to hear God's voice. 

We each have been called to our own unique journey, and as part of that journey, we are required to travel the wilderness from time to time. To head for a destination that has not yet been revealed. To trust God to provide for us moment by moment, day by day, week by week, and finally, side by side. 

And it is only through our wilderness moments that God can reveal His greatest surprises. Once He has us as a captive audience, communicating with Him on a daily basis, and trusting Him enough to follow wherever we are led, then our boundaries truly are limitless. God can enlarge our territory. He can use us to touch more of His world than we ever dreamed possible. 

He can show us that home is wherever He is. 

So, embrace your wilderness moments. They require crazy levels of faith, and when you look back, you will see them as the most powerful of your life. 

Psalm 56:8 - You number my wanderings; put my tears in your bottle. Are they not in your book?

What can you share about your own wilderness moments? How has God spoken to you, even if you felt as if you were wandering about and were not sure where you belonged?