Sometimes...

Sometimes everything is perfect.

It takes my breath away and I can just see the strokes of God's brush on the canvas He's named "Lela." It's amazing, the clarity, the vision... the magnificent beauty and purpose just stand out and speak to me of the author and finisher of my faith. I'm assured that my life is designed with this Ultra Significance and grand view in mind, just for me! I set forth to achieve the goal given me, I have confidence in The One who sends me forth. I round each corner expecting to complete my task, energy exuding from my being and I can't wait to see what lies ahead!

Sometimes everything is foggy.

I still feel this hazy sense of purpose, but somehow I've lost the clarity. I know the goal, but all of a sudden I can't seem to find the way to get there. The pathway I was so sure about seems to be all but disappearing right before my feet. Something within me starts hesitating and everything seems like a struggle. I fight my way forward, now unsure that I'm aiming the proper direction. I'm hoping, as I round each new corner, to suddenly see the light that once shone so clear, to feel the hand of God I felt just moments before and was so certain I was following truly.

Sometimes everything grows dim.

All at once, in the middle of the fog, the lights go out. I'm left all alone and bewildered in the middle of the woods. I've turned countless corners and have no idea where I am. There isn't the faintest glimmer of light or the feeling of the presence of God's direction or hand. What seemed like the surest route now has me lost and helpless and desperately afraid. I long to turn and run, but there is no way I can find my way back in the darkness and fog.

Sometimes I come to the end of myself.

I fling myself down on the carpet of the wood's floor and cry out in utter despair. I cry out to God to rescue me, to save me from the black pit I'm sure I've stumbled into. Why won't He stretch out His hand and save me? Why won't He pluck me out of this dank, dark hole? Why won't He deliver me from the prison He's led me into??!!

Sometimes the morning comes.

I wake up on the ground in the most beautiful wooded sanctuary I've ever seen. Radiant light filters in through the trees that stand, tall and protecting, all around me. The pathway I'd been traveling now lies beneath me, stretching along through the woods and out a ways, going uphill, to the top of a mountain. The mountain-top is a mile or two away, but I can see the top of it, my destination, my focal point - the purpose toward which I've been persevering and struggling toward.

Sometimes I must plow on.

I get up and start walking. I make it out of the woods. My fright has winded me and I'm still a bit down from becoming so emotionally driven. My stamina is low, and I find I must stop to take breaks quite freaquently. But seeing the mountain-top from back in the woods has my courage up and my attitude is much more positive. I know God is there, has been there the whole time. He's just waiting for me to obey Him.

Sometimes I reach the top.

I finally make it to the top of the mountain. I can look out all around me and see for miles and miles. I can see the pathway, down below, that I've been traveling, into the woods, and out of the woods and up to where I'm perched. God feels right beside me and there is a bright shining ray of light in my very soul. I am completely rejuvinated and feel like I can do anything. The world is mine for the taking and I know I can accomplish whatever will be asked of me next.

Sometimes I must wait.

While on the mountain I feel ambitious to achieve; I know there are more mountains out there to be conqured and I'm anxious to take them on! I keep expecting God's direction to lead me to them, with every breath expecting the call to go! But it doesn't seem to come. Agitatedly I pace back and forth and don't hear the summons I await. Frustrated, I finally sit down on the rock that appears to be positioned carefully to best view the magnificent tableau seen from my vantage point. Then I hear the still, quiet whisper: "My child, rest."