I walk the concourse to my gate and wait.
I’m grateful to be early. I’ve run after planes closing their doors and missed flights. I’ve cried at ticket counters.
This is not one of those occasions. Inside, I celebrate this small victory, however ridiculous that sounds.
I got on a a plane because I felt that the invitation though from human mouths, really, had been written first by God.
I planned, I packed, I left my family.
I prayed, I spoke, I came home.
I like tangible truth–to be able to grab hold of it with my two hands and know, without a doubt, that this is it.
It looks different though. I don’t have anything solid to hold on to. It’s all tangled up between here and heaven in whisper-prayers and hope for the unseen.
Did I make the right decision? Did I use the right words, or share the right message?
I think so. It seemed right.
But there’s nothing to hold on to. There’s no proof, as some may need there to be.
God calls and we answer the best way we can. We walk blind, led by truth, not the tangible. My arms always outstretched in the dark, feeling the way, reaching for His hand, listening for His voice.
Details align and a path made smooth feels like truth, feels like confirmation.
The voices of dissent swirl. Confusion builds.
I grapple for the truth, and find nothing–nothing tangible to offer. There’s no proof I can hold out. I don’t have anything concrete to show for the choices I make, based on the truth I sense.
I feel God, so I go where I hear His voice, where He makes the path plain.
I carry with me truth, His words, these are the ones I deliver.
In doing this I rest that I have served well.
Take me by the hand;
Lead me down the path of truth.
You are my Savior, aren’t you? Psalm 25:5 Msg.