You know how you remember some things from years past with vividness while others are completely forgotten? For example, I will never forget the time growing up when my friend dared me to steal some popcorn from the lady's tub in front of us during a high school football game. So, while the unsuspecting fan turned her back on her popcorn, I snagged a piece. I'm not exactly proud of that memory, but there it is, indelibly ingrained.
Well, just like I have never forgotten that incident, neither have I ever forgotten one of the first chapel messages I sat under at John Brown University. It was a message aimed for the incoming freshman. I don't remember the man's name, but I definitely remember his story. He spoke of taking his son on an excursion to Disney World. After experiencing the first ride, the dad proceeded to escort his son to the next thrill. Surprisingly, the boy didn't want to leave the ride they had just experienced.
"But, son, the next ride is SO much better, I promise."
"No, Daddy. I like this ride. I want to stay here!"
And so the argument would go until the dad could convince the boy that the next ride would indeed be better. When they would finally reach the next ride, the cylce would start all over. The son would become attached to the current ride and refuse to move on.
The speaker went on to compare this cycle to the cycles of believers. Often, we refuse to trust that if God is pulling us away from our current "ride", He has something even better in store. That story and analogy has stayed with me and always proves a comfort when I am faced with giving something up or heading into something new.
Yet, I still often feel like that little boy: unwilling and doubtful. I don't relish unknowns and don't readily give up comforts. I rarely anticipate the next phase with giddy excitement because I'm busy mourning the loss of something familiar as I tred forward. Though I love the thought of adventure and change and wish to present myself as a bold pioneer, in practicality, I am a horrific transitioner and am just like that little boy.
This concept washes me afresh every now and then. Today is one of those days. I don't know what's happening next year. I feel uncertainty gnawing at me and newness waiting around the bend. Excited? Maybe, but desperately clinging to my current ride. I feel I need a deeper surrender. I am afraid the hands of my heart are white-knuckled in gripping the merry-go-round while Christ is gently tugging me toward Space Mountain. Of course, this analogy breaks down. Life does not always get progressively more fun or exciting, but our walk with God can get deeper and sweeter no matter what the circumstances if we navigate the rides with Him. As we do so, He will lead us through the rides that will refine us the best. I'm not sure what my next ride is, but I'm praying for the faith to embrace it enthusiastically.
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