By the Light of the Sun

Always learning the art of trust, this messy, joyous, painful, colorful, all encompassing and all demanding part of life.  Without trust, where can we go? Without trust, who can we be?  And always we move forward learning about this one thing, this faith, this ability to be in the unknown and be perfectly content, perfectly peaceful, perfectly happy.  And every time we settle for a moment, we think "Aha! This time I've figured it out!  This time, I trust with everything in me, I have WON!!" And we run forward, shouting like joyful children, waving our hands and wiping our faces, eyes bright with the adventure of conquering new land and the knowledge of success - and it is absolutely glorious - for a time. Then we stumble upon the next gate, the next door, the next path, and it's a little bit harder than before, a little bit different, a little bit strange.  And we think "Oh shoot... I don't know where that one goes... I didn't sign up for this new thing..." and after casting our glances here, there, everywhere but this NEW road, this new thought, this fresh and very dark looking path, we suddenly remember Trust, that old companion whom we had thought to have had all figured out, who must be learned anew and re-appreciated for all of the intricacies which make it irreplaceable.  So with renewed vigor and determination we pick up our tiny suit cases, our dolls and our blankets, leaving behind the lesser important toys of the past; we pull out our tiny flashlights of trust and walk forward into the great unknown.

I am filled with an inexplicable joy at this new road.

It is slightly comical, upon entering this dark and foreign land with the brassy, stubborn assumption that you know your way around, to realize that you can't see anything and all you have to navigate with is a flashlight. I mean really -  to dialogue with God and be handed the flashlight of trust, to stumble upon these gates that lead to the foreign lands you have heard about for so long, which you have been promised to be granted access to, which you have so desired to explore and which for so long you yelled to the top of the skies, shouting to Him, "I'm ready!! I trust you!! I've learned everything you wanted me to... I can't wait any longer!! Please!! Please now!! I'm dying to go!!!"  And then He chuckles and suddenly there it is, everything you've been wanting, everything you knew was coming, that very THING you were dying to have and to endeavor, and it's... odd, confusing, unfamiliar.  And so... big. And all you have is your little, dinky flashlight to see it by, until you remember that it's not by your own plans, your own knowledge, your own doing that you can make this dark, limitless land into the empire you wish it to be, the empire you were building with twigs in your bedroom, the one you were King of before you got to this new place. It's the same room you used to have sleep overs in, where you made pillow forts and wore onesies pajamas.  There was probably also a nightlight, because secretly, you were afraid of the dark unknown. The twigs were practice for the real thing, which is not really like twigs at all, but like cement. Rocks. Weapons and resting places. Like wooden beams and iron rods, light rays and vast amounts of un-plowed ground. There is the sudden realization that building this real city is not like making a town of twigs by the glow of a nightlight at all. Then the sun comes up and suddenly you can see everything - every hollow of the land, every material you need to build, every thing you wondered about to begin with, and the flashlight becomes a relic of the adventure it took for you to see by the sunlight instead.  You put it away and start building until you reach the end of the land and the next gate opens.  This time, you have been building play models of a city with yarn and toothpicks.  This time, your flashlight is bigger. This time, so is the unknown land.

Trust, that funny thing. God, you funny guy.  And on we walk, into these brilliant adventures, and I don't know why we have ever feared, why we ever doubt, or why we ever look back.  Everything unravels and unfolds with beautiful timing, with inerrant measure to our trust in these promises and dreams.   We cannot be tied to the things of the past, the things which we thought we understood of a previous land, as we walk into the new.  They are wonderful things, to be celebrated and remembered, which prepare us all the more for taking the dreams we form in those places and making them realities.  But they are not all life has to offer, they are not the essence of trust.  The gates will open and on we will march, into the dark, with our trusted flashlights and our bright ideas.  The faster we learn to run to these paths with all abandonment, wielding our flashlights like swords, the faster the sun will rise.  Everything will be illuminated, in time - every word, every breath, every promise.

We are alive in our journey.  And the more we trust, the more alive we will be.

I think I am ready for this adventure.

I think I am ready for the unknown.


Because my flashlight needs using, and I fully intend on using it until there is nothing left for God to do but swap it out for the sun.