Driving to the coast takes you through a pass and up and over the edge of the escarpment. I have stood at the same outlook point in those mountains many times. Mostly the weather is clear, and I can see for a great distance. I always look around me, to get a sense of the glorious space I’m in, and then I look at the way ahead. I can’t see the actual road winding through the foothills, but I can get an overview of what’s coming – of the weather I’ll meet on the way, of the direction I’ll soon be driving in.
Sometimes however, the clouds have come in, or there’s a storm that’s blown in from the west, pulling sheets of rain and blustery pockets of wind. When I’m driving on my own I’ll stop, look around and prepare myself mentally for the slow and dangerous road down off the heights. I’ve been through the pass once in the snow, and I went straight through. The long line of cars crawling in front of me, and the snake flicking it’s tail behind, kept me fixed, concerned and focussed. No time to take stock in the middle of that storm.
We constantly want to know what lies ahead. Sometimes, and that’s often the best of times, we are asking because we are already on our way, and we seek knowledge of what to expect on the journey itself. At other times, and this is probably the more common cause of the question, we have yet to make a decision about the journey itself, should we go or should we stay.
We seek to know which of the choices ahead of us is correct, or best, or has the most chance of success. No decision has been made at all. The song lyrics, “Should I stay or should I go…” sum up this position. “Darling, you got to let me know, Should I stay or should I go..” It’s the place of indecision.
It’s like we’re standing on the lookout point, and the cloud cover is just thick enough so that you can sense something is out there. Is it getting darker, heading towards a storm,? Or is it lifting, getting lighter, with a clear run ahead? You can’t tell. Time is ticking.
If we believe in God, we often feel that we are providentially placed to ask the questions of, “What now?”, “Where to next” and “Why?”, to the one who is most capable of answering. God. The God who holds our destiny in his hands. But when we do ask, we either don’t hear an answer, or are hobbled in our decisions by emotion. How many times have you heard someone say, when it comes to a major decision in their lives: “I have prayed, but I don’t feel at peace with this.”?
Ultimately, when God does speak, we tend to second-guess what we thought we heard. It’s a vicious circle. Because we believe we know God, the creator and controller of the universe, because we believe he knows us and loves us and wants only good for us, we think he will give us insider knowledge on things that will affect our future. Surely? But when he does, if he does, we don’t really listen. We move forward in uncertainty. When things don’t work out, we feel betrayed and alone. We lose our trust in ourselves and in God.
What can we do?
Standing on the lookout point, rain or shine, there are three things I know. The coast is where it was last time I took this trip. I will encounter some situations that are the same as the last time I drove this way, some that are similar yet different, and some will be totally new. And if I don’t go, I will never get there.
Because I am aiming at a specific outcome, I can reasonably guess at the process of the journey itself by past experience, and action needs to be taken for the outcome to be reached. There are many things I don’t know and others I can’t be sure of, but if I keep my eyes on the road and drive safely, I should get there.
But is this enough to give me peace of mind on the journey? Moving back from the analogy, is planning an outcome and working towards it with caution enough to give us the confidence we need to face life every day? Or do we need something more, like a guarantee that the outcome will be good?
There’s more coming…
Shoot for the Heart 