Learning to walk

Without trying to be weird or make you worry about me because I’m writing a #vaguepost, I will tell you that I’ve been wrestling with some decisions lately. To me, they are big, scary, life-changing decisions, and they’re making me crazy. I feel completely in over my head.

I was out walking today (a recurring theme if you’ve read any of my other posts), lost in thoughts about what I want, and looking for real, honest, and tangible answers on how to get there. With each step on the dirt path and the itty-bitty dust clouds my shoes made, my heart ached for answers. It was toward the end of my walk that I realized the drips I was wiping away were tears, not sweat. It took everything in me not to bend over with gut-wrenching ugly sobs in the middle of the path. I was struck with the realization…I’m a runner.

When the going gets tough, I want to run. I was literally planning my escape. 

All of a sudden, even though I was still walking, I couldn’t hear my shoes in the dirt. I’m not kidding. I was so focused on my stuff, I could. not. hear. 

The source of the surge of emotion was all too clear. Even though I couldn’t hear, God was still there. Even through my muddled and anxious thoughts, his voice was still there, trying to break through the fear. I was so absorbed in my quandary and my solutions, I was not able to hear his loving, caring, tender voice saying stay. Hear me. Believe me. LISTEN. 

People…HE DOESN’T MISS A THING. 

I speak in actual. He wants dependence. I think quantifiable. He says surrender. I want to fix. He says TRUST. I want peace. He wants peace. 

I want tangible, when all I really need is his peace. I want to be able to discern between my own thoughts/desires, and the peace that can only come from him. I want him to tell me I’m on the right path. But I can’t get there…because I’m not listening. I can’t get there because my agenda is in the way. I can’t get there because I’m so focused on the thing that I drown out his voice. 

Why can’t I ever see which is the better way? Hearing my own steps in the dirt, scrapping and fighting and fixing, for something that I think will make me happy? Or, trusting the astonishing truth: that he cares more about my future than I do? 

Here’s the thing, guys. God promises that he will provide. But he’s not real specific about that. We have to be okay with that, or we will miss his voice because we choose to run.