Fear of the Missed Exit


I realize that it has been a while since I have posted.  It’s not because I had nothing to share.  Plenty was happening in my life.  Honestly, I have been going through a bit of a dry spell when it came to hearing the voice of the Lord.  He has always been there, but maybe, just maybe, I wasn’t in a place to hear from Him.  I’m guessing the latter is the reason.

I recently attended a women’s conference at my church.  It was a time set aside to have an ugly cry, a broken heart, and a life restored. Let’s just say that when you offer the sacrifice of time before the Lord, He will honor that sacrifice and meet with you, no matter how ugly you cry.  (If you want to learn about the conference click here)

Going back to the dry spell… Why?  Why did I have such a long time of not really hearing from God?  Not that He didn’t speak, but my spiritual ears were filled with so much junk that His voice was blocked.  The honest reason for the blockage?


Fear that I missed my calling.  See, the suburbs of Detroit were no where on my radar when I was dreaming of all the adventures God was going to lead me on, but here I am.  In Michigan with the two kids, a dog, and a mortgage; teaching music in the local school, married to a smokin’ hot husband, but feeling like I missed it.  Insert Belle singing on the side of a hill about adventure… #DisneyChildhood

I felt called in one way from what I was told in the past, yet I find myself in a different place than what I visioned in my early years with Jesus.  It’s rather confusing and seems complicated.  Am I supposed to do something else?  Am I supposed to stay a teacher? I really feel like being a teacher has developed my skill, but is that where I am supposed to stay?  What if people don’t affirm what I thought was my calling?  What if my husband doesn’t want me to move into that roll?  What if the roll I think I’m supposed to be in isn’t it?  Maybe I should look for some castle in the woods of France instead of living a provincial life?  No, wait, that’s Disney again.

So many what ifs.  So many unknowns.  My brain and soul get wrecked trying to figure it out, fearful that I will miss my exit and never live up to some calling on this road of life.

I sat before the Lord this weekend, weeping ugly tears, my face looking red as my mascara ran down my face.  I hid in the back corner of the sanctuary, angry with God that everything I’ve been doing is for nothing because I made some wrong choice decades ago.  I made a single mistake and messed up God’s entire plan for my life.  Very powerful of me to do such a thing, right?

Then in the midst of the music and hiding in the corner, God whispered His truth to me.  The thing is, all of my efforts of me trying to navigate the route is really me wanting to be God and drive the car.  Me trying to hold control or gain control when I should be in the passenger seat enjoying the view, admiring the wildflowers and vast creation along the side of the road.  And when I’m trying to drive it all myself, I can’t hear from God because I’m trying to BE God, which is the sin of idolatry.

The driver tells me which exits to look for while He is driving, and I joyfully seek the roadsigns because it is His roadtrip that I GET to be a part of. But when there is no exit in sight, I sit, enjoying the conversation with the Driver.

Past “missed opportunities” are not missed exits, but rather not MY exit.  Not where the driver wanted me to go.  When I do grab the wheel and force the exit, like Google maps, I am directed over and over how to get back on route to where I need to be.  I’m never kicked out of the car or given up on because I’m not there yet.

My calling? My calling is to get in.  Get in and enjoy the ride.  If it’s through the treacherous mountains or the foggy valleys.  Get in and enjoy the neighborhoods of white picket fences or the projects of those cast to side.

Get in.  Trust the Driver.

Don’t worry about the missed or even next exit.  Wait for the Driver to tell me to look for the sign or opportunity, look for the turn, look for the next rest stop, wait in the traffic, sing His praise with the radio, but never abandon the car.

Get in.  All in.  Buckle up because THIS ride is the adventure.


Photo “Highway 101, Ventura California” courtesy of Wendell.

2 thoughts on “Fear of the Missed Exit

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