I’m a planner. I like systems and organization and control. It’s how I get things done.
When there is no plan, I can panic. I become frenetic, a hamster on its wheel. I’m doing a lot of things, but I’m not going anywhere.
It’s a dangerous, dangerous place to be. I know. I’ve been in it before. I recognize its dark shadows. They know me by name. They whisper it. Sometimes, they scream. They aren’t very nice, these shadows. They’re bullies and liars. I walk carefully lest I fall and lose myself in one.
I am learning to walk in this place, though. When there is no plan, I run to the rock that is higher than I. I call out his name. I beg for help. I ask him to make my steps sure, to guide me in the way to walk.
Somehow, confidence returns, if only for a little while. I know it isn’t mine; confidence isn’t something that comes naturally. In fact, this place is still as dark, dangerous, and scary as ever. The only difference is a newfound steadiness. I’ve rediscovered the God who is my refuge and strength, abundantly available for help. I do not have to be afraid. I only have to find my rest and security in him because he makes me adequate, he makes me strong.
When there is no plan, there’s only one thing to do. I cry out to the God who created me, loves me, and saved me. I know he hears me; I have confidence in him. He listens to me and is with me in this, in this, in this.
Image: Jeremy Noble (Creative Commons)