It seems like the older I get the faster time moves. I cannot believe it is already the middle of May. Weren’t we just celebrating the New Year? Even more remarkable for me, this year my law school class celebrated our eight-year class reunion and Monday will make four years since I graduated from divinity school. So much has happened, and yet I feel as if so little has changed. Despite spending this past year in transition, I still feel like I’m only in the middle of this transition process, with no foreseeable end in sight. I thought I would have been finished transitioning by now and “settling” into a new and more stable life, but much remains unknown.

 

Indeed, I recall having a conversation with someone a little over a year ago where I confessed that I had no idea where I would be in a year and what I would be doing. Now a year later, I find myself repeating those same words. The future seems so uncertain, and while that may be cause for fear (believe me, I have my moments), I find it quite exciting as well. Yes, the future could hold great disappointment and hurt, but it could also bring success in a manner and on a level beyond my imagination. What I’ve come to realize this past year is that when the future seems the most uncertain, you are perhaps in the best position for the extraordinary to happen. It is in the uncertainty when you are forced to face your fears, dig down deep within yourself and discover your greatness. When you become comfortable with not needing to know how things will unfold and the immobilizing fear that can come with not knowing, then you remove the limits of what you thought should be and allow God to do the extraordinary.

 

As I have stated in previous post, for so long I had planned my future in my head; I would finish my law degree by 25, get married, have kids and a great career all by 30. While those things are noble desires, and desires I still have, when I came to the realization that I was not meant to live that life, I had one of two choices. I could lament my great disappointment, which I’ve spent many days doing. Or I could release the need to control something as uncontrollable as life, and live fully in the present, waiting patiently for God to guide my next step. I was so busy planning for the future that I had failed to live in the present, and I didn’t want to do that any longer.

 

Now, I choose to see the uncertainty of the future with a mixture of excitement and contentment. I work to enter a place of rest, where I no longer try to control the future by seeking to uncover its secrets. The truth is, despite all my previous efforts, the future was and will remain uncertain. Therefore, what I have released is not control, but rather the illusion of control. I feel like Job, who after seeing the majesty of God and is unable to answer God’s questions, is brought to a state of awe and silence. When I consider the vastness of creation and my own finite nature, I can’t help but surrender. Although I had hoped to be beyond this phase of transitioning, I am not, and that is fine. I choose contentment over frustration. Yes I would like to know how my life will unfold, but that might be a bit boring and overwhelming. Furthermore, that is not how life works.

 

…And I’m ok with that (for now anyway; check with me in two weeks). So I’ll continue to transition. Who knows? Perhaps I’ll get to my journey’s end and realize that life was meant to be a never ending processing of transitioning and becoming.