Behind her, a door is thrown wide open. Familiar voices and faces beckon, a warmth from within spilling out to curl around her trembling limbs. Without even knowing it, she turns her face ever so slightly to meet the oncoming love and affection. But underneath all of it, is an unsettling layer of familiarity. An imbalancing knowledge that if she turns back now, and lets the door close behind her, she will never have the chance to emerge again into this hallway of indecision she now finds herself in.
This hallway of choice.
Ahead, a door is barely cracked ajar. No sound is heard, nor are any faces seen. Every so often she catches a draft of wind that scoots under the door quickly, before being whisked down the hallway. The wind carries smells, feelings, never before reached for promises of bright days and possibilities. But first. First she must reach for the doorknob.
The doorknob of chance.
A chance to be loved. A chance to be cherished. A chance to find her place and her purpose. A chance to move on, and grab all the possibilities that have been promised. But also, a chance to be hurt. A chance to trip and fall. A chance to stumble under the weight of all these new acquaintances and adventures that she is sure to encounter.
Unable to move forward on her own, but not yet discouraged enough to move backwards, she continues to sit. And sit. Onward and endlessly, with no change in either of the doors or her position.
I was writing this kind of short story, but realized I didn't really have an ending for it. In fact, I still don't. Because I'm that girl in the hallway. In fact, I think we kind of all are. We all have something we're struggling with, something we're hanging onto because we're too afraid to let go of it and open the door to the life without it that Christ is promising. Because we're comfortable, because it's familiar, and because even though we might not admit it we're not quite sure we trust God enough to believe that He'll follow through on His promises to work everything out in the end.
So we sit. And we wait. And nothing ever changes. EVER.
See, the motivation to move? That's got to come from God. Because if it's left up to us, chances are we'll never talk ourselves into moving forward through a door if there's absolutely no way to see what's on the other side. That's scary, and uncomfortable, and not all that smart!
Here's where God comes in. And here's where the motivation to get on our feet and START. MOVING. FORWARD comes from. It comes from a heart so overflowing with the desire to seek God that everything else gradually becomes so important. It's a spirit that is longs so deeply for it's eternal home in heaven that the things of earth that so captivate us start to fade away.
It comes from a soul so desperate for the perfect, loving, all-encompassing arms of the Creator, it is willing to throw anything and EVERYTHING to the side in order to achieve an eternal goal of Christ like holiness.
"I consider EVERYTHING a loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord, for whose sake I have lost all things. I consider them GARBAGE that I may gain Christ and be FOUND. IN. HIM." Philippians 8&9.
Giving up everything and anything we've ever held dear because they pale in comparison to the light of God's glory. It's hard to imagine right now, but with Christ it is DEFINITELY possible.