Mapped Out


Please meet my friend Jeremy, who writes over at Till He Comes and is one of the blogs I visit regularly. What I like about his story is that he and I share a tumultuous history with dog poo. But more than that, he’s got a clear view of what he’s doing TODAY. Just today. 

I was going to be the next Rick Warren. Or John MacArthur.

Or Chuck Swindoll. Or whoever is your favorite
big-name-best-selling pastor. This was my dream.

And I thought I was on my way. Everywhere I preached, people
told me that I unfolded the Scriptures in a way they had
never heard before. People praised my writing for its
imagery and clarity.

Yet for some reason, I was never able to get more than 75
people to attend the church I was in.

So I figured the problem wasn’t with me; it was with where
I was at. I was pastoring in rural Montana. I needed to fix
that. I needed to go to where there were more people. And I
probably needed to finish my Master’s degree. And maybe
get a Ph.D.

So I enrolled in a famous conservative seminary in Dallas,
and landed a job with a non-profit organization where I
could learn about international public speaking and book
publishing. I started a little non-profit organization of my
own, began to gain newsletter subscribers, got a few
articles published in various theological journals, and
started to accept invitations to speak in various churches
and conferences around the country.

I thought I was definitely on my way.

Three years later, I was working 80 hours a week to clean
dog crap and cat urine out of carpets in 110-degree heat and
wondering what went wrong.

I think I now know: God went wrong.

My idea of God anyway.

God was not content to set quietly in a little birdcage hung
from a hook in my living room.

With a roar, he broke out of the cage, and in the process,
left my life in ruins.

At least, that’s what I thought.

Today, I’m not so sure.

Like Humpty-Dumpty, I had a great fall and lay in pieces at
the foot of the wall, but unlike Humpty, I think the King
has come to put me back together again.

Though I am not sure what he is building. It certainly
isn’t to be a pastor of a mega-church. At least, I don’t
think so. I wouldn’t be too surprised if I never set foot
“in church” again. It is probably not to be a
best-selling author, either.

I do find that whatever it is, I must write. I need to
write. I feel his pleasure when I write. Yet I am not sure
if writing is in my future or not. Maybe writing is part of
the healing process, and then I will leave it behind. I just
don’t know.

And that’s the point. I don’t know. I used to have my
life all mapped out. Planned. Organized. Each step carefully
prepared.

Now, I’m content to just do whatever presents itself each
day, and show love to whomever walks into my life. That’s
it. That’s my grand plan. That is my life goal. And it’s
proving to be more than enough.

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