Photo Credit: Glen Alan Woods
“I see the light at the end of the tunnel.” I’ve used the expression often. As the fulfillment of goals drew near I would utter the words. But that was a different season, clearly marked by definite beginnings and endings. Degrees. Events. Projects. Programs.
Now, in the aftermath of the life I once lived I reluctantly acknowledge that it wasn’t supposed to be this way. I’m on the outside of the tunnel looking in and I have no idea where it leads. In the past there was far greater clarity, although it also had many challenges.
Now there is obscurity. Yet, I retain hope of a different kind. Rather than desiring to be recognized or to feel accomplished, I want to be content. Hope whispers comfort that God will continue to be my provider when provisions are meager, and the costs of living rise faster than my ability to earn income.
It promises strength when the desire to check out challenges my sense of responsibility to press in to community, even in the face of marginalization and rejection.
It encourages me when I glimpse his working in the hearts of the hardened truck drivers, world-weary dock workers, first generation Muslim immigrants or Buddhist adherents, and young children who hear the gospel for the very first time.
These things and more put life in proper perspective. My car limps along in need of repairs, but God will provide. I hope and pray for creative ways to do life with those who will never step foot inside a local church. Despite the many road blocks, I leave it in God’s hands as I press in, with or without the support of a local church, although I very much prefer to operate under its covering.
Who knows what I will find as I enter this tunnel? Will it branch off in the darkness, leaving me to stumble without clear bearings? Or will illumination eventually shed light?
Time will tell. For now, I press in. Past experiences and training are little help in the way ahead. More than ever, I need The Lord God.
Break camp and advance…