fly. sprint. collapse.

We learn very quickly that we function poorly as our own gods. I am sitting on the plane, with imminent fear of missing my next connecting flight, ready to pull a fast one and collect my carry on items in order to burst through the emergency exit. But I cannot move even an inch until we finish turtle taxiing to our gate (and my nervous eye contact with the face of my watch does not seem to be helping). Life can just be so disobedient sometimes, as if it pleasures to remind us of our deficiency of control.

The fasten-your-seatbelt sign goes off and I am immediately in full sprint down to my terminal three letters over. My bladder is full, my mouth is dry as a chalkboard from days of Dramamine, and my dinner of M&Ms and airplane peanuts is hardly fueling me at this point. I pause momentarily to wait for the train and my heart beats audibly in my ears to mark every precious second passing. By the time I finally jump to the finish line, my polite "excuse me's" have run out and I am nearly crying, not even sure myself whether I am overjoyed or exhausted. I sigh an awkwardly frazzled "thank you Lord" and board my plane home.

Phew, another Christmas miracle. I did this same triathlon (fly, sprint, collapse) three times this week. Isn't interviewing fun?

Would I like to breeze my way through this process with the greatest of ease? Well sure, who wouldn't. Would I like to saunter through airports and show up in my suit looking stellar everywhere I go? Again, yes. But these are the times that build character. These are the times that make me appreciate, even anticipate, Match Day looming in the near future.

December marks a season of anticipation for the joy to come. Many seasons of our lives reflect similar anticipation, as we seem to always be looking forward to the next thing, the next test, the next vacation, the next ______. We believe we will feel satisfaction when we accomplish or acquire this next thing, and finally, finally feel settled. Perhaps the reason we anticipate what's to come is that we think we are in control of it all, a god of our own lives and that reaching our goal will solidify this self-image.

But I make a terrible lord over myself, as exemplified in my perpetual chase for bettering results, causing me to constantly move forward in thought to the next big thing, anticipating that ever elusive contentedness. In this season of Christmas, I am going to choose to acknowledge what I profess to be true anyway-- that God is in control, that He has written my outcomes in ways that will shape me and form me into His own. I will anticipate His next moves, rather than my own dictatorship. After the sprint, I am ready for that season of over-my-head contentedness.