I come across a toad enjoying a leisurely hop through the rain. He tries his hardest not to be noticed, but it doesn’t work. I reach down and pick him up, give him a look. By all standards, he is one normal toad. 100% average. Not only that, he has no idea what the answer to my question is. In fact, he doesn’t even seem interested. So I put him down and hops away a little flustered, maybe a bit irritated, but on the whole completely fine if not a little ignorant.
At this point I’ve had to refill my pipe with tobacco. I, absent mindedly, my thoughts elsewhere, reload my thinking weapon, and apply the necessary resources to get it going again. After resuscitating my pipe, I decided to ask for an expert opinion.
I sit down on my tailgate and ignore the rain intermittently falling on my head. My Heavenly Father tends to know the answers to these types of questions, so I audibly ask for His help. For Him to weigh in. I’m curious as to what He will say.
I go for another jaunt around the yard, waiting for an answer. All the while mulling over facts and realities to myself aloud. Looking into different possibilities and potential answers. The orange embers from the pipe glow bright as I talk, indicative of the quick talking and thinking I’m doing. It’s as if they seem to respond to how hard I’m thinking about this question. Burning bright and hot.
But I get nowhere. And still indicative of my thought process, my pipe grows dim. The last dregs of tobacco slowly turning to black, lifeless ash.
I wish I could tell you that something inspiring, intelligent, or ground-breaking came from this session. That I found the answer to my question. That God came down, we walked around for a bit, He filled me in on some things, gave me a hug, and ascended back to Heaven. I imagine this would be a very different blog if He did. But, no. He didn’t deem it prudent to hit me with any revelations or insights. However, I think I know why.
Recently he posed his very own question to me. It was simple, yet powerful. Short, yet very deep. He asked, “Do you trust me?”
I suppose there’s nothing that I need to know right now. I don’t deserve to have any sort of revelation into my life. I don’t really need it. I want it, sure. But I want a lot. Don’t we all?
God didn’t give me anything during my pipe-fueled pondering because He had already given me something. He asked me to trust Him. I should’ve been aware enough to realize that it was an answer in it of itself. He’ll let me know when I need to know. He’ll show me when I need to see it. He’ll get me up and lead me when it’s time to go. And if I start in the wrong direction, He’ll let me know. He always has.
The answer is yes, by the way. I do trust Him. Also it seems I was a bit off, this question does have a lot to do with trust. Trust that He’ll direct me where I need to go, sure. But also trust that He’ll tell me when it’s time to move, and when I do move how exactly to do it. Trust seems to be a multi-faceted concept. Not nearly as straightforward as I imagined.
|I didn't take this, but you get it.|
I pack away all of my things. Lighters, matches, tobacco, and pipe back in to my black wooden cigar box. Smoke lingers in the carport. It’s been about an hour since I began my thinking. Nothing has changed about the outside. It’s just as dark, rainy, and hazy as it was. The lethargic rain has picked up once again, deciding to give it one more go before the morning comes.
As I walk inside I’m no closer to know the answer to my question. In fact for all my striving, I haven’t budged an inch. No golden answer. But I do walk away more content. Thankful even. I may not know what’s coming, but good ol’ Dad does.
If I can’t find contentment, solace, and even rest in that. Well... Then I won’t find it in anything.