When the Road Disappears

Let me address the weary wanderer, of which I fall into such category of late. Let me address those moments when the road does not fork or allow rest but simply ceases to be there, drops off entirely. Let me tell you that there are times, seasons such as this when the road becomes missing, either because grief is so great or unrest so great or confusion so great or so many great things as these. For some reason, the mind is overwhelmed, the heart if overfilled and the strength is oversapped. Immediately, while traveling down this road you look and the road has disappeared. It is a moment filled with gripping passions and intense feelings of loss and hopelessness. Sadness and despondency. Confusion and just really really deep pain. Does this make one believe in God less? Is faith at some low point? I say absolutely not. For God is a precious and perfect God of the journey and sometimes the road has to drop out for us to see something. Some thing is put in place of the road. It is not a road at all any longer. Instead, during this times of insecurity, what you need is a great big bear rug to wrap up in. And you look and don’t see a way to go, sometimes you can look again and before you is placed the coziest, warmest, most luxurious bear rug in the world to cuddle up in, warmed by the fire of God’s love and given as a gift to let you know that God’s got you in the midst of this owie, thie traumatic thing. Nothing is bigger than His security, perfect care and loving provision. And your job then is not to figure it out but wrap up in it and take a deep rest, drinking in deep and holding on tight. There is more to life than the road taking you somewhere. Sometimes you just need to be.

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