"What if what I think is great really is great, but not as great as something greater?"
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[Yes, I did in fact quote The Wedding Planner right there. I'm not even ashamed]
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What a thought to ponder. . . what if we're destined for even greater things than the greatness that currently surrounds us? Should we just remain where we are and enjoy the good stuff that we have, or should we take the risk and step out in faith to see what else there might be? Perhaps something even more wonderful?
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This past week I ventured out on a small-scale hike in the foothills. The particular trail that I was on led to two different ruins' sites: one being the mountain home of John Brisben Walker, and the other being what was left of the humble beginnings of Mr. Walker's attempt to build a summer home for the U.S. presidents. After hiking in and surveying the bits and pieces that remained of Mr. Walker's former residence, I headed back out on the trail for the nearly mile-long walk to get to the summer home ruins. But as I started heading further away from where I had originally come from my mind caught up to me and started formulating thoughts along the lines of:
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"Am I really going to go that far just to see a cornerstone of a place that never got built and no one really cared about?"
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"I know that there's a closer view of Red Rocks all the way out there, but I think that I can see them pretty well from here. . ."
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"Is it going to be worth it?"
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In spite of my questioning I decided to trudge on with hopes that my effort would not be in vain (even though I did consider stopping along the way at a couple of places that had decent views of the metropolis area or the surrounding foothills), and, you know what? It was most definitely worth it!
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The cornerstone and the rubble themselves weren't anything too spectacular, but that didn't matter because I was overjoyed at the location that I found myself in! A location that boasted far better views than those which I had second-guessed passing by, and that provided the most perfect spot to sit and enjoy the beautiful surroundings and feel God's presence!
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What a thought to ponder. . . what if we're destined for even greater things than the greatness that currently surrounds us? Should we just remain where we are and enjoy the good stuff that we have, or should we take the risk and step out in faith to see what else there might be? Perhaps something even more wonderful?
_
This past week I ventured out on a small-scale hike in the foothills. The particular trail that I was on led to two different ruins' sites: one being the mountain home of John Brisben Walker, and the other being what was left of the humble beginnings of Mr. Walker's attempt to build a summer home for the U.S. presidents. After hiking in and surveying the bits and pieces that remained of Mr. Walker's former residence, I headed back out on the trail for the nearly mile-long walk to get to the summer home ruins. But as I started heading further away from where I had originally come from my mind caught up to me and started formulating thoughts along the lines of:
_
"Am I really going to go that far just to see a cornerstone of a place that never got built and no one really cared about?"
_
"I know that there's a closer view of Red Rocks all the way out there, but I think that I can see them pretty well from here. . ."
_
"Is it going to be worth it?"
_
In spite of my questioning I decided to trudge on with hopes that my effort would not be in vain (even though I did consider stopping along the way at a couple of places that had decent views of the metropolis area or the surrounding foothills), and, you know what? It was most definitely worth it!
_
The cornerstone and the rubble themselves weren't anything too spectacular, but that didn't matter because I was overjoyed at the location that I found myself in! A location that boasted far better views than those which I had second-guessed passing by, and that provided the most perfect spot to sit and enjoy the beautiful surroundings and feel God's presence!
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Had I turned back when I first started questioning whether to continue on or not I would still have had a great experience. Had I decided to stop at the other inviting places along the way, I'm sure that they would have been great. But if I hadn't pushed on as I did I certainly would have missed out on something far greater, something that felt as though it was created just for me and that moment in time. True, there was the possibility that it wouldn't be anything too special, but even if that had been the case, at least I would have taken the risk . . . and could always return to one of the great places that I had passed in the process.
Had I turned back when I first started questioning whether to continue on or not I would still have had a great experience. Had I decided to stop at the other inviting places along the way, I'm sure that they would have been great. But if I hadn't pushed on as I did I certainly would have missed out on something far greater, something that felt as though it was created just for me and that moment in time. True, there was the possibility that it wouldn't be anything too special, but even if that had been the case, at least I would have taken the risk . . . and could always return to one of the great places that I had passed in the process.
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Why does this seemingly simple hiking experience elicit such an elaborate explanation from me? Because the reason that I ventured out to this spot in the first place was to take the time to weigh out a life decision -- of the "should I stay, or should I go?" nature -- and I can't help but liken the experience to my decision-making process.
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Life in Colorado is good, really good. It's beautiful, has the amenities of city-life and nature, and I've made some quality friendships here with wonderful people. But is it enough to keep me here? Or is there something greater that I need to step out in faith to walk towards, not knowing what lies ahead?
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The hours that I spent thinking and praying, lofted above the earth on my personal, rocky precipice while looking out to the snow-capped mountains provided me with my answer . . .
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I'm moving back to Washington.
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I may find myself wanting to be complacent, to dig in my heels and just stay here, [aside from the lack of a job] it would be easier on one hand. And yet, I feel the same stirring within me to trudge on, leaving behind the good, and pushing on until I see what the adventure before me holds, whatever it may be. And maybe, just maybe, I'll find myself faced with something even greater than I thought. I think that it may be worth it. . .
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"A man's heart plans his way, but the Lord directs his steps." ~ Proverbs 16:9
