In my mind, there is a string that connects my soul to God. I see it as a literal string, but invisible and incapable of severing. It is there because at one point, God held my soul and being in his hands and crafted it. And just before he was finished, he fixed this little string to it, to keep us connected.
I know it sounds a little silly. God is outside and beyond our physical world. He doesn’t need strings. But still, it’s there, at the core of my being, and I can feel him tugging on it sometimes when I go astray. And astray I have been.
It is the ultimately difficult thing to find one’s way in this world. We’re all obsessed with it, aren’t we? Because at every point in life, others want to know what you’re doing. What are you “up to?” What’s your plan for the next month, year, five years…
I became obsessed with this question. Obsessed with time and my time and what I am doing with it. With what my plan was. With what I’m “up to.”
Life does this to you, you know? Until I graduated college, my time was planned for me, more or less. I always had the next thing planned — entire semesters of coursework, internships lined up, part time jobs. I took my time and chopped it up into neat, exact compartments, and I looked on that with satisfied security.
Even after I finished my college coursework, I had things planned. Wedding. Honeymoon. There were steps and events and things to do with my time.
And then there was nothing.
My job allows me ample free time, and there was nothing more. And I panicked. I was wasting my time, this most precious resource. And so for a year and a half, I dedicated my time to worry, obsessing over my failure to do anything with my time, anxiety over my lack of goals, of direction, of moving toward anything.
And then a tug on the tether. On that magical string that connects me to my creator.
He didn’t speak to me. I wish I could say that He had. But there it was: a tug, pulling me back to him the tiniest bit, like a balloon bobbing down on its string. A reminder.
What I had not been doing with my time was giving it to God. I had not been seeking him — and I don’t mean for answers about what to do next. But seeking him to be present and active in my life. Seeking ways to bring my focus to him. Taking the time to learn and think and mull and wrestle with scripture, to figure out what it means to me and for me.
And that’s what I’m doing now. Taking the time for God, because he takes the time for me. To tug on my tether. To bathe me in love and peace and mercy. To pick up my brokenness in his hands and just hold it.
And, I hope, to lend me some direction for my future, to soften my heart towards letting his will inform what it is I do with my time.
It’s difficult to find my way in the world because that’s not why I’m here. The focus should be on God’s way for me in the world; his purpose for my life. I’m realizing that’s why it’s so empty to try and barrel through life, obsessed with professions and careers and what-if-I-did-this — because that’s all about my way. What I want to do.
And that isn’t the point at all.
Here’s to the tug on the tether, to reconciliation, to contentment with a calm season of life, and to whatever He’s leading me to next.