The journey of faith is a strange one. I thought it would be a straight and definitive path to the known. Do this and this and I will get this. Know exactly what is right and what is wrong and just make sure I do what is right (and get everyone around me to do what’s right as well). Surround myself with like-minded people and create a like-minded mission and work hard to accomplish said mission. It’s simple. Black and white. I know where I’ve come from and where I’m headed for certain. I can map out my moments, my days, my weeks and in the end, my whole life. Ultimately, I have control of it all. Who I’m with. What I believe. How I vote. Where I land on every single solitary social, emotional, intellectual, financial, spiritual, how-to-be-a-good-Christian issue. When to pray, eat, spend, fast, tithe, serve, worship. I don’t have to worry. I have everything tied up in a nice neat box that no one and nothing can touch. I’m all good. No need for curiosity. Or learning. Change. Or growth. Turns out my thinking was wrong. I was wrong. This journey of faith has ended up being a twisty-windy journey. Filled with do this and this and get clobbered with something out of left field. What felt right and certain and sure only a few weeks ago has no bearing on what’s actually happening inside my four walls and especially in the painful and grateful places of my heart. My insatiable curiosity lands me in a place where I’m not sure I’m like-minded anymore and I have more questions than answers. It’s complicated. Gray. The past and the future feel daunting, and the present is the only space left. There’s no perfectly-plotted map, only the next right step into what’s exhilarating and scary at the same time. Lots of need for curiosity. And learning. Change. And growth. At times, I feel unmoored. Confused. Filled with doubt. And at others, I feel centered. Mindful. Filled with wonder. But to be honest, I mostly feel held and loved by God. Whose NOT afraid for me. Angry with me. Annoyed at me. Even if others might be and I am myself sometimes. God is good. Loving. And with me. I hide in God, not in my carefully-crafted box. I cling to Him, not to my certainty. I love Him, not the image of Him I’ve created. This is not easy. It’s definitely not “safe.” But it’s good. It’s very very good.
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