I Don’t Have This Figured Out
I love people, but it’s very apparent that I have not mastered the art of asking questions.
Don’t believe me? Ask my husband. We were on a walk one evening and I was sharing that I wanted to get better at asking questions so I was going to practice on him. Do you want to know what happened next? Nothing. Every possible question left my brain. Probably even left the country, for that matter.
Asking meaningful questions really is something that does not come naturally to me! Talking? Sure, I could do that in my sleep. (Maybe I do do that in my sleep… Caleb?)
I get so in my head in conversations that I often have a hard time even retaining the information someone else has shared. Even while I’m talking, I’m spiraling in a thought pattern that resembles this:
Ask her a question, Rachel.
Don’t make this about you.
WHY ARE YOU STILL TALKING?
I don’t have this figured out.
I’m almost 30 and I still feel like an insecure high schooler, desperate to be considered “cool.”
I thought I’d have my identity and self-worth figured out by now.
I’d be secure.
I wouldn’t care so much about what people think.
My emotions wouldn’t rise and fall based on someone’s response (or lack thereof).
I’d have my temper under control.
I’d be the encourager instead of the gossip.
I’d be the woman people could come to for wisdom and advice.
I’d confidently pray for people.
I would have arrived…
But, I’m still under construction. And I don’t have the ability to hide these areas very well.
Honestly, at times, I wish I could.
Because other people seem so calm. They have the right answers. They’re so positive. I’m spiraling and they’re like: “Rach, remember God’s grace and goodness and love and mercy.”
OKAY [insert wonderful lady’s name here]! THANK YOU. I FORGOT. AND ALSO… HOW DO I DO THAT?
But I’ve also started to realize something…
My inability to hide my mess may actually be an invitation for other people to stop hiding theirs.
Don’t get me wrong, I still have work to do.
I need boundaries. I need wisdom. I need to grow.
Yet, at the same time, my vulnerability and authenticity can be a gift.
When I really sit down and think about it, maybe I don’t need to figure it all out.
I don’t need to see the entire map. I just need to take the next faithful step. My dear friend, Ms Elaine, shared this in Elementary Chapel this morning:
All I need to do is take the next faithful step because God is writing my story!
And what a gift that is—to be able to rest in His plans, knowing that they are for our good and for His glory (Romans 8:28).
If God were to reveal the whole picture to me, I would either:
(a) freak out, doubt myself, and run away
OR
(b) get a huge head, start immediately, and crash and burn.
Yet, in God’s grace and wisdom, He gives enough light for the next step.
Not the whole path.
Not the five-year plan.
Not the finished book or business.
Not the finished mother or woman.
The next step.
And when I start spiraling through all of my questions, Jesus brings me back:
I AM.
Breathe.
Trust Me.
I hold your tomorrows.
—
I don’t have myself figured out.
You probably don’t have yourself figured out either.
But Jesus isn’t standing at the finish line waiting for us to finally become the women we were always meant to be.
He’s meeting us in the right now. Giving us the next faithful step.
We can boast in our weaknesses because Jesus’s grace is enough for us and His power is made perfect in weakness. In 2 Corinthians 12:10, Paul says: “Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me. […] For when I am weak, then I am strong.”
Weakness isn’t proof that you’ve failed. It’s an invitation to depend on Him.
So, maybe I don’t need to know what I’m doing ten steps from now. I just need to take the next faithful one.
