As I grow older … though not necessarily wiser … I gain more experience on which to base my judgments. So it’s not completely irrational that I think I know what I’m doing most of the time. The operative word here is “most.”
I discovered recently that I had completely misjudged someone based on past experiences. Usually, I give people the benefit of the doubt using my trusty default nice streak. But at the time, I wasn’t in any mood to do that.
Granted, there had been a host of disappointments that set my trust-o-meter to sub-zero, but still, this person carried not an ounce of responsibility for other people’s failures.
As my life — with truth and lies unfolding — becomes more complex, my world shifts and my vision blurs. As I pondered my past mistakes, I realize that misjudgments are probably more often the case than not. It’s hard to judge myself accurately, much less anyone else. It’s impossible to climb in someone’s head, peer down into the heart, search out motives, and clear away all the emotional clutter we carry around inside, burying our better selves or hiding behind chosen perfection.
So, in all humility, where can I turn? Who will understand and not judge me for a mere fool? Who sees beyond my excuses and takes an honest look at how I behaved?
In the end, I turn to the One who has much better eyesight than I do. One who can peer into my self-centered mind, my protective heart, my overzealous soul, and take me where I actually stand. In surrendering myself to God, I have found peace. I’ve also discovered that I can accept the mystery of other people a bit better. That doesn’t mean I accept evil as good. But the controlling — save myself, others, and the whole blinking world — part of me has loosened its grip.
I don’t know what will happen tomorrow. Good heavens! I don’t even know what will happen this afternoon. But I’m getting a little more comfortable with that fact … that uncertainty. Reality has consequences. Jump from a cliff without wings and you’ll likely die. Lie, cheat, steal, treat other human beings as toys … and the taunts of hell will trip your every step.
In a world where everyone seems like an expert — I’m okay being uncertain about some things. I’m glad that God is God. I don’t want His job. I’ve got to make a semblance of sense of the struggling-to-survive-world in front of me. This human journey is a labyrinth fraught with peril, and our choices can have eternal consequences. Yet we must live. We must make decisions. We must keep walking. On water. So it seems.
That seems to be the key. If we’re going to join the mystery of God and trust Him with our frail humanity, we have to walk on water.
Just keep walking.
Copyright 2019 Ann K. Frailey