The Search Is Over
Pages open before me, two sides clearly drawn: pro and con. I was back at it. The familiar yet painful task of deciding where to go and what to do. The weight of responsibility sank down on my shoulders as I overlooked all I’d scribbled down. I felt confused and even dismayed, asking the same questions I always did in moments like this:
“What should I do, God? And why is this so hard?”
Hours ticked by, urging me toward my deadline and to a decision. Although the lists were finished and I’d wrestled all I could, I felt defeated. I used reason and logic the best I could and still nothing. Frozen and confused, I packed up my stuff and left the coffee shop resolving to force myself to choose the next day.
Have you ever found yourself in this place? You wrestle back and forth, seeking to make the right and best decision possible. You pray God will give you some sort of holy sign, you ask friends and family, you google articles online desperately hoping someone will tell you what to do.
Opportunities come and go, inevitably we make wrong decisions leading us from where we dreamed we’d be, while some choices lead you to unexpected joy and redemption—so then why are we careful to handle decisions so delicately like a land-mine waiting to catch us in misdirection?
When I think of what holds me back, my first thought is a desire to safeguard what comes my way. Who doesn’t want to be wise with resources and newfound options?
But upon more reflection, I find my reason for hesitation and commitment isn’t as pure as I hoped. While I do pray for wisdom as I move from one choice to the next, what I find beneath is a desire for something much more: a dream of living a significant, and maybe even important, life.
This struggle for significance is innately human. We search for meaning beyond ourselves, hoping our lives will mean something once our days are done. We long for our lives to hold value.
We see it at the beginning of creation as God created both Adam and Eve. Although made with a purpose and the privilege of walking with God in the garden, they chose the promise of power and knowledge over God’s good plans for them (Genesis 3: 1-7).
Our experience today is not far from this. Thousands of years later we still overlook what callings and dreams God laid out not just for you or me but all believers.
Calls like: “Love the Lord your God with all your heart…The second is this: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ There is no commandment greater than these,” (Mark 12:30-31).
Or “Is not this the kind of fasting I have chosen: to loose the chains of injustice and untie the cords of the yoke, to set the oppressed free and break every yoke? Is it not to share your food with the hungry and to provide the poor wanderer with shelter—when you see the naked, to clothe them, and not to turn away from your own flesh and blood?” (Isaiah 58: 6&7).
In all our searching for adventure or meaning in this life, we overlook what God has already entrusted: significance that lasts into eternity—to extend love and dignity to the vulnerable. Will that be enough for our wandering hearts? And will we let God’s plans for us be enough?