The idea behind this post was inspired by my wife, Tracy, as she reflected on a sign along the trail she was running this past weekend. It was in a town we had never visited before, Winona Lake, Indiana. We made the 4+ hour journey with our children in order to attend a free concert hosted by Grace College. That may seem to be an excessive trek for such a goal, but consider that Sarah Groves, Andrew Peterson and, our personal favorite, Over the Rhine were playing in a close quarters tent aside a lake on a hot August night. We may well have travelled double that far to be there.
We were pleased to find that the area is home to some great hiking and biking trails. As is her custom, Tracy shunned the hotel treadmills to run beneath the early morning sky. Though we had explored some of the trails the day before, she was largely unfamiliar with the area where she was working out her cardio. (As an aside, this adventurous spirit of hers is one of the many endearing traits which I have have enjoyed throughout 14 years of marriage.)
The trail bent and wound through the woods such that there were sections of it hidden from sight. Along the way she stopped to snap the picture you see above, a sign reading "blind curve." Tracy did not know where the trail went or how long it would take her to follow it. What she knew was that she was running, there was paved trail in front of her and a yellow diamond told her the obvious. "You cannot see where this is going." The analogy to our life was as bright as the sign against the foliage. However little she knew about the course of that trail, she trusted that its design would lead her out of those woods.
Now, I am inherently suspicious of trite aphorisms. To avoid them in these writings is a goal which I may accomplish to varying degrees of success. When you pare away all of our plans, hopes and desires, a couple things about life become really clear. 1.) Here we are. 2.) Here's the path in front of us. Every day is a blind curve. Even the scripture acknowledges our inherent lack of control over our fate. "...You do not know what tomorrow will bring." Working for 15 years in emergency medicine, I am acutely aware that James's statement could be taken to the nth degree by saying, "You do not know what the next second will bring." The blind curve haunts us and is the source of much anxiety for many people. Tomorrow brings car wrecks, cancer, collapsed marriages and a litany of other crises. How then do we live in such a world of uncertainty? Where will we find solace and solid ground?
Our family, on a journey toward serving in East Africa, has had the opportunity to navigate many of these blind curves. There are no straight lines on our way there. It has been more like Billy's iconic wanderings in the Family Circus cartoons.
The stops and starts, curves and bends of our route, the tension of attending to today while working for tomorrow can be, at times, overwhelming and exhausting. Lest we shake our fists and cry "foul" at this, we remember Jesus doesn't promise straight lines. Actually, he guarantees the blind curves. But he adds something to our paradigm so that it reads more like this: 1) Here you are. 2) Here's the path in front of you. 3) I am with you and no one can snatch you away from me. (Hebrews 13 & John 10) The promise of pain and the promise of joy both issue forth from the same eternally wise, just and loving hand.
This is very simplistic thinking. Many have said it more fully and eloquently. But sometimes, just like a bright yellow diamond, simple is what I need to navigate an unknown trail in the dim light of morning.
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