This week I sat with a new friend at a potluck. We chatted about life's aerobics disguised as trouble. She described a shift in her thinking that has brought renewed hope.
"Instead of asking God to do what I want, I ask him to show me the path to take. I am willing to follow, and trust that he will lead me."
It clicked as soon as her words hit the air between us. Telling God what I want is like steering a car based on the terrain two feet in front of my bumper. My nearsighted desires cannot even focus on a goal fifty miles out. But God has a perspective perched from a mountain top. He is less anxious about rocks in the road, or detours around sinkholes.
She told me that although she and her husband are facing tough issues, they are closer than ever. It's amazing how that plays out. Flowers and chocolate just don't have the adhesive power that shows up when you are clutching the hand next to you for dear life.
When I think about why I love John the images that come to mind are the scary ones. He is usually the one to drive us safely home in the wee hours of travel at Thanksgiving. John is a terrific dad when the kids are cheerfully playing Monopoly, but then so are a thousand other men. Yet when our kids have ended up in the ER or the police station, he has kept me from falling off a cliff.
You will show me the path of life. In your presence is fullness of joy. At your right hand there are pleasures forevermore. Psalm 16
