The end of the year is a traditional time to take a closer look at my life. I find myself considering this past year: my joys, my triumphs, my missteps, my sorrows. And I think about the coming year and what may lie ahead.
When looking ahead, I like to plan. I want to know where I’m headed and have a good set of directions from here to there. With my proverbial map and compass, I don’t simply hope I can make it, but I am confident in my ability to use my tools to navigate the path.
Is it just me or does life not work that way very often? Even when I may have an idea where I’m going, my map gets torn and I misplace my compass. Suddenly, I have no way to know whether I’m even on the right road or moving in the right direction. I start to run this way and that like a squirrel who can’t decide whether there is enough time to cross in front of an oncoming car.
Once again, I’ve discounted my lack of future knowledge. I can plan all I want and waste my time scurrying about when I’ve lost the tools I think I need. Yet I’m no further ahead than I started out and I’m exhausted to boot. Not only have I lost my confidence, but I no longer have much hope that I’ll actually get wherever it is I need to be.
Yes, my soul, find rest in God; my hope comes from Him. (Psalm 62:5. NIV)
So many times, I have put my hope in jobs or friendships or my own thoughts about what will be best for me and things haven’t worked out as I’d planned. I conveniently forget that I don’t really have the whole picture, that God’s ways are higher (and deeper and wider) than mine (Isaiah 55:8-9).
God rarely promises a particular outcome to our life circumstances. He has never asked me to trust that any situation will turn out the way I’ve prayed it will. Instead, He asks me to trust in Him. To believe that He knows what is best for me–even better than I do. To rest in Him and allow His hope to fill me because He is everything I need.
Man, that’s hard!
Thank You for having such great patience with me. You ask me for one simple thing, yet I try everything I can to get out of giving it to You. I want to be the one to make my own plans, to rely on myself. I refuse the comfort that comes from just letting go and allowing You to hold me.
Rather than accepting Your rest, I wear myself out trying harder and harder to do what only You can do: give me a future and a hope (Jeremiah 29:11).
Please forgive me for trusting in myself rather than You. For settling in on Your throne in my heart and asking You to make Yourself comfortable on the footrest. Thanks for continuing to offer me rest and peace, even when I’m not really sure I believe You.