Yesterday, while waiting for a friend, I picked up her IPhone and entertained myself by discussing life with Siri. (If the name Siri is new to you, it is an operating system created by Apple that acts as a knowledgeable personal assistant and information navigator, who has a lovely feminine voice and charming whit. Like if you have a hankering for good Thai food; “Siri, where is the closest Thai restaurant to here?” or if you find yourself thinking, “If Pluto is not a planet, then what the heck is it?” Ask Siri.) So I did.
“Siri, what should I do if I don’t know what to do with my life?”
She replied, “You don’t?”
Almost as if she was surprised, “Wow really? I thought you had it all together.”
“No Siri, I don’t know what to do.”
She responded with gentle compassion and understanding (and yes I am aware that I was talking to a machine but this is the 21st century so get over it).
“It is ok that you don’t know.”
And in that moment, even though I acknowledged that talking to a computer program about major life questions might not have been perceived as the most mentally stable move, I felt relief.
It is ok that I don’t know.
I live with a nine-month old, and some days I wake up and think, “Man, I wish I could be a baby today. I don’t want to do anything. No work, no decisions. No thinking about the future. No worrying about being behind in this season or what is going to happen next and if I am going to be ready for it. To just be held and taken care of. To have no pressure in making decisions because there was no life changing outcome no matter what I decided (do I want to play with the red ball or the blue spoon?). But to just have strong arms to carry and protect me.”
And in the moment that Father spoke to me.
“You are my baby. I can carry you. I can hold you. And I can take care of you. I can tell you what decision is best. I can be your Father. That is the kind of life I have to offer you. Life as my child.”
And when thinking about this life and this journey that I am on with Him, I get the picture of a kid strapped into the back seat of a car. Dad is driving and keeps peeking in the rear view at his cute kid. Kid is wiping spit on the window with his finger or excitedly shouting truck every time one passes like my nephew use to. Kid is happy because he is with his dad. He trusts his dad. Dad has always taken care of him and brought him to good places in the past. Dad puts on the Disney Pandora station and sings the “Make a Man Out of You” song from Mulan way too loud and off key. Dad is fun and dad is trustworthy. And dad is driving and knows where they are going. Kid does not have to shout and scream from the back seat, being retrained my his car seat; “For the love of God, WHERE ARE WE GOING!?! AND ARE WE EVER GOING TO GET THERE!? AND ONCE WE GET THERE WILL I BE GOOD ENOUGH FOR THAT PLACE AND WILL PEOPLE LIKE ME!?” Kid does not have to worry whether they will have enough gas or if he picked the right clothes for the trip. Dad is taking care of it. And whether this trip ends in sharing a fat ice-cream Sunday on park swings, or a shot in the butt because that is what kid needed to grow up and get stronger; he can trust that dad is good. Dad knows what is best for him and dad is driving, and kid can trust that dad is taking him to a place that will bring him joy and life. And until then, with that knowledge, kid can enjoy the ride and keep wiping spit on the window.
In three weeks I will be leading a group college students out into the mission field for the summer. And I am really excited about it.
Q: So where will I be going?
A: I don’t know.
The trip is only three weeks away, and at the moment I am still not sure where it is I will be going. (The technicalities of this are that they need more leaders to apply, and till then, it is hard to place leaders over the specific trips).
Q: And after those two months, what will I be doing then?
A: I don’t know.
Those are not impressive answers in the eyes of the world. I know. Those answers reek of “I don’t have my act together.” But I am learning to be ok with them. I am learing to be ok with saying “I don’t know”. Because I have chosen to walk by faith and not by sight. And in order to live a life of faith you have to be willing to leave gaps for God to fill and take leaps so that he can catch you. And I have experienced His faithfulness time and time again and that is what reminds me that He knows where we are going. And that he will not let me down and He is perfectly able to take care of me, even better than I can take care of myself. And wherever we are going, it’s going to bring me joy and life. Because He will be there.
And I bet that like me, you have got to have some places in your life where you feel intimidated and have to say “I don’t know.” And most people would respond to you like Siri, “Really, you don’t?”. Because you actually have it more together than you think you do. And if you were to ask me, I would commend you. “Homie, you rockin’ that shield of faith. Bravo. Looks good on you.” And just like Siri, I want to give you permission and say to you this…
“It is ok that you don’t know.”
It’s perfectly ok. Cause He does. And someday, you will too.
