Why is it that I often find myself right back where I started from? The days feel long, my head spinning with all the things on my so-called "to do" list and the thought of accomplishing even the first couple things on the list feels overwhelming. As fall approaches, I find myself likening how I'm feeling to being in a corn maze. Corn stalks sky high, unable to see over them. Turning right, turning left, completely unable to see which way will take me to the finish line.
The aroma is sweet, so I know there is good and things to be thankful for, but the lostness feels lonely. The center look-out tower in the middle of the maze seems too high and far off to approach. I can't quite figure out how to get there. I know that if I could just get to that high place, I'd be able to find my way and see through all that seems unclear, the path that would lead me out. I often mistake that God is the one sitting on the tower, shouting directions to me, helping me find my way. He is most definitely seated on the throne, but He is a far cry from the One who shouts and dictates the way that I should go.
Feeling completely alone many days, I want to curl up in a ball in the corner of the corn maze and just give up. I can not hear, I can not see. I have been here before, like I've been running in circles, passing the same markers time and time again. The task of moving forward is way too daunting. I sit in my pity party tears of what to make of my circumstances. It is not as much a sadness as an overwhelmingness of life and all that is brewing in my midst. When you set out on life's path, you never can be prepared for all the twists and turns that lie ahead, and frankly, had I seen what would have been, I would have given up a long time ago.
I place my worth and my value on the ability to see, but in the maze, sight is impossible. Is that the irony in it all? To walk by faith and not by sight? Still crouched in the corner, I find myself feeling unworthy, unimportant, undeserving of anything He has to offer. I peak over the stalk on my tip toes in hopes of discovering a solution, but find that the tower is completely empty. Completely void of an answer from up above. No one to help me or offer any sort of direction. Sitting back down, I reel with all the possibilities of what to do next. With my head down on my knees, arms wrapped around tight, I feel a pressing on my shoulder. Dismissing what it could be, I ignore it and continue on my planning path of what I can do to get
myself out of this mess. The pressing intensifies, and as I almost utter words of wondering, He says my name. Who knows my name? Out here? Who knows ME? Besides that, why would anyone even care? I look up to see a familiar face, a reassuring smile I'm well acquainted with. A touch of His hand holds so much power that it urges me to stand.
"What are you doing down HERE?" I ask. With no annoyance or frustration in His voice, at the reality of yet another rescue, He tells me, "I'm here for you."
Wait, what??
When all I see of myself is disappointment, incapability, lack of trust, sinning the same sins, making the same mistakes -- there is not judgement or critique in His eyes. He is not surprised by my need to revisit similar anxieties or to re-express old fears. I have definitely been down this path before, and here I am again, finding myself on such a similar journey of trusting. It feels strangely frustrating that I should have already figured things out. Patience exudes from Him like a willow tree calmly swaying in a quiet breeze. His patience brings me peace. A peace the surpasses anything else I could understand.
In my deepest need, He is most there. In my biggest weakness, the power He exhibits is undeniable. What I could not do for myself, He did. He's done it for you too.
Why do I spend so much time in the corner of the maze? Why do I keep peering over the stalks for my salvation when He, the agent of rescue, is right next to me?
Trusting you, Lord, is what I choose
today. And I'll choose it again tomorrow, and the day after that.
I choose you. Because you have chosen me.
.jpeg)
