Away from noise, away from stuff, away from dishes, away from love. Making a commitment is such a final thing to do; it’s easy to sign-up and start running a marathon, it’s hard not to stop for a hot dog 20 minutes into it and even harder to even get half way. I started this journey to fulfill it and… “journey”…this is a far more negative word than the previously used “adventure.” Adventure implies excitement, fun and a nearly avoided disaster whereas a journey brings to mind a long, unending, poorly-lit trail possibly with a heavy burden to carry and no companion, or an irritable one for that matter. I’m trying to read the book of James but my eyes glaze over and my heart beats like it always does, nothing changes. I must journey on and trust God! It’s so easy to claim that I will trust God, but is it true in my heart? If I think real hard I realize this is what I want but I hardly believe it is possible. I feel guilt wash over me as I try to excuse my lack of faith, like God doesn’t know already. It seems like failure becomes a sort of personal identity for me. No, I must press on. I will stand on the well-lit stoop in front of that door and knock until the Lord opens it. He will open it, He promised. I will always look to him and know that he loves me and he loved me first. I am a little child running to him, sobbing, and wanting to be hidden.
I just remembered that He is God, and he’s got this.