This morning I felt like a crazed insomniac. This is strange when you consider the fact that I'm still in the late stages of that good old teenagerdom right of passage known as "I Can Sleep for Ten Hours Straight and Still Groan when the Alarm Goes Off" syndrome (or ICSFTHSASGWTAGOS, for short.)
After staying up until one in the morning, (against my will, I might add,) with my wide-awake little brother, I awoke at 4:30 ready to run a marathon, and ended up on our deck overlooking the creaking, dark forest that is our backyard.
Between the fact that I didn't have contacts in my eyes and the fact that it was dark outside, it took me a minute to stumble my way over there, but somehow I managed, and I found myself deep in thought as I looked out over the great, blurry mass in front of me.
It was there in the calm night air, with the pine trees swaying in the cool breeze and my bare feet tingling with a desire to run, that I began to think about life. And, as I was thinking about life, Jesus whispered something in my ear that I knew I was going to share with you today.
Stumbling through the pitch black garage to find the door to our back porch had somehow reminded me of my life over the past few months, and that was what Jesus wanted me to know. Perhaps that was even why I woke up in the middle of the night.
You see, He's always shown me the way to go. Still, somehow I always seem to ignore His offered hand and try to do what He's called me to on my own. I forget that He's there for constant support, and end up confused and a little turned around, simply because I refuse to take His hand. He tells me to trust Him, and I always say, "But..."
Take the other day, for instance. One of my students, a burly man from Africa who is about to earn his doctorate from WMU, gave me a talk about college.
"I can tell you are intelligent," he said in his thick accent, "and I don't want you to waste that. Taking one year off from school is fine, but you need to go next year."
I almost went to look up a list of majors online.
Then I remembered that Jesus and I had done that very thing a year ago and couldn't find a single one that said, "Lauren Durham needs this to be successful." Still, I ended up confused, wondering if this incredibly sharp man knew more about God's desires for me than I did.
Or last night, for another example, I was telling someone my reasons for not going to college and how things had turned out so far, and I found myself apologizing, "I mean, I'm really glad that I've done it so far, but I just don't know what I'm supposed to do next..."
Now, leaning against the rail in the wee hours of the morning, I could practically see myself stumbling around on the path that God already knows every bump and bend of by heart. He tries to tell me to take His hand and let Him take me on this journey, but still I end up running along on my own, tripping on roots and getting scraped with brambles along the way. "You just don't understand!" I complain as He untangles my hair from a tree branch, "Everyone thinks I'm strange, and what if I never get a real job, and what if I end up playing the piano on a street corner in an alley next to my cardboard box in New York City, hoping someone will stuff a bologna sandwich in my tip jar so I can eat for the day?"
"No, you don't understand," He looks me right in the eye, "All the days ordained for you were written in My book before one of them came to be."
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