Waiting for Breakfast

I Live in a Box

I live in a box. Not literally – I am very thankful for my little house with its running water, electricity, and heat.

No, my box surrounds me, but others cannot see it. I try to hide it from everyone but those very close to me, and even then, I don’t always let people know.

The walls of my box are comfort, fear, complacency, uncertainty. I sit in my box with my fingers in my ears. Sound seeps in, so I sing to myself. “Lalalalala, I cannot hear you.” Truth is I can hear. No matter how loud I sing or how deep I stuff my fingers, I can still hear.

It is God. The rustling I hear outside my box. He moves around me, touching my walls. Whispering words of courage, conviction, love. His voice always permeates my barriers.

I try harder. I pick up my box and run. God runs after me, loving me, not willing to let me flounder in my current situation.

He sees the future. I cannot. I try, but just cannot. I try to trust because He loves. Trust is hard, but it shouldn’t be. That stepping into the unseen fills me with trepidation. My heart pounds against my ribcage. It hurts, but it is not physical pain. It is the pain of hearing God and hesitating. This is not who I am called to be. My human sight focuses on the now, ignoring the divine and leaving me in this place where God never meant for me to live.

It is easier here in my comfort and complacency I think to myself. But then the fear and uncertainty push in. No, it is not easier here in this hiding from God, so I poke my head out of my box.

“There you are. I’ve been waiting for you.” God speaks and I know it will be okay, this living on the outside of my box. With God, it will be okay.