I should realize by now that this chaos is disturbingly familiar.

It’s the sound and fury of me trying to turn on every piece of noise around me to drown out the call. It’s a valiant, vain attempt to plug my ears and yell to make the song of What I’m Supposed to Do just shut up and go away.

It’s not working. It never does.

Sooner or later, the self-induced chaos gives me a soul-ache and I start craving peace and silence, so I, unaware that I am the creator of all this chaos and noise around me, irritating me and giving me a ringing in my ears and a pounding in my head, start turning the things off, one by one. Then I hear that guiding voice again, and I remember. I did this, didn’t I?

I’m running again.

I hate running.


I tried to learn to like it at several points in my life, but never quite succeeded. Now, walking –that I can appreciate. Running? Not quite so much.

So, in the last few weeks, I reached the peak of yet one more self-induced crisis, trying to figure out why I couldn’t hear that guiding voice, and who caused all this noise, anyway? I’ve been through weeks, months of back-and-forth plan-making and strategy, completely forgetting.

When God guided Abraham, it wasn’t with a three-year plan or a strategy.

It was with a vision. A voice. A dream.

A dream. You know, those annoying, inconvenient things that happen when you’re least expecting them –those things that get you all stirred up without being so courteous as to provide themselves a way of making things happen. One day, you wake up, and you know. You know what you were born to do, and have NO idea how to do it.

That’d be me.

I may as well walk to Ur with a caravan of camels and a motley assortment of household members. I’d be just as clueless.

What does it mean to walk in faith? What does it mean to walk, not run, without a map? What would it mean if I could, for once in my life, quit making a cacophony of distractions every time I get tripped up by the past-voices telling me I don’t matter and that I can’t handle one more disappointment? What if I learned this time to walk one step at a time, focusing on the horizon instead of the map?

I think I’d get there.

My path might look to me like that beeline that Billy makes to get home, or it might be a direct path… Either way, I think I’d get there.