A: Peace In the Fog

He lingered in the mist. His face wet and cold, but not weary. “Memory is a tough chain to break,” he admitted. But soon after, his feet touched earth to the rhythm of a stride, to where he could not answer. Deeper into the mist he went. 

Alone in the endless gray cloud, he began to ponder his life back in the old sloppy house. Though he hated it, the routine and ease were comfortable. Predictable. Almost bearable. And still, always a shadow, a derivative of what could be. Never the gospel of genuine substance or Love. 

To be in the fog, walking toward an unknown destination was a feat of itself. He battled to leave his tiny dark room, plugged his ears to ignore the shouts of apathy and desperation as he ran down the hallway. And then at the last, he forced himself from the porch, the last visible place of safety, into the Midst. 

He wanted a plan, a goal, a point on the map, anything to rest his mind while he strolled. Everything inside him told him he needed a plan, because “it’s responsible.” At nearly 40, how could he look a woman in the face, a potential companion and confess he did “not have a goal?” (He did have a goal, but who wants to hear a grown man say his life goal is to walk with Jesus everyday, into this great expanse? To allow life to dip and duck and rise without doubt? To be himself?)  

Without warning or needed explanation, Wisdom rose within him. He stopped to focus on the voice within.

“You no longer need a plan or a goal. You’ve done the will of the Father. You’ve leap into faith, and go daily into the Midst, to know and to be known by the Lord. I promised to see to everything else in your life. And so I shall. You keep walking into the Midst. I’ll get you where you need to be.” 

He continued to stand in the fog, no longer interested in the destination. His future will be with the others in the mist, not the miserables back in the house. In the mist, they will understand his heart and his joy. They will not find comfort or have need for elaborate blueprints of control. “Goodbye house mind,” he chuckled. In all his years he never felt the peace he felt in that moment. His mind no longer focused on the future, but on Jesus the Christ. 

Remove the Fear, then what?

Yesterday was an odd day. I enjoyed by morning walk with Jesus, two large servings of coffee, and emotionally prepared to go to an engagement party. I also washed, dried, and folded my clothes, wrote a blog, created two new works of art, cleaned the bathrooms, and took all the trash out of the house. 

Communed with Jesus? check

Created? check

Cleaned? check

Productive? check

I even found time to play Sim City 4 and joke around with my roommate. 

Another way of looking at it is, I busied myself. I was conflicted to go to the engagement party. There was a chance, however small, she would be there. Part of me wanted to see her, to move beyond the awkward public setting encounter, to enjoy being in the same space. And the other part of me just didn’t want to go to the party regardless of the guest list. 

None of it seemed to matter by 6pm. I was physically exhausted, like take a long solid nap, can barely keep my eyes open tired. WTF?! Where did this come from? (My honest thought is I drank double the coffee I normally do and then crashed. Not sure.) 

I began to argue with myself about the party. I need to go. I am working to help the guy launch his clothing company, and I like him and his fiance. I need to go because if she goes and I’m not there she might think I was trying to avoid her.

All of it was bullshit, of course, and fear based. I prayed for wisdom and received my favorite response “remove the fear, if you aren’t afraid of what anyone will think, what do you want to do?” Just like that I knew what to do. I texted my friend, gave him a brief explanation of my situation and gracefully bowed out of the festivities. 

As for her? A) I don’t even know if she made it to the party. That’s not my concern. And B) I know I’m not afraid of her. in fact I look forward to seeing her again, when ever it happens. I don’t owe her an explanation, or if she’d even want one. 

Onward.