One day, as I was going about my usual day, I heard a still, small voice asking me to come near. I drew closer, wanting to be near this calm voice and gentle presence. As I did, the whispers became clearer. Soon I heard the voice calling me to follow it on a new path, a new adventure.
And so, I set off on the path following this voice, trusting in its goodness. In the distance, I could make out a blurry but magnificent picture of a place where God could use me. A place where I could bring His love and compassion to others. My heart fluttered in excitement and butterflies made a home in my stomach. My steps quickened as I made my way down this tree-lined path. I knew I was being lead somewhere good because I knew the bearer of the voice was good. Along the way, I traveled up some hills and down some others, stopping occasionally to see the beauty all around me. And I heard echoes of the original call to come near, confirmations that I was indeed following the right path.
But one day, as I was walking, a thick fog began to envelop me. I could no longer see the beauty in the distance. I could barely see my hands in front of my face. And that voice, the one that I had grown so familiar with? It became harder to hear through the thickness of the fog. Sometimes, I could hear a muffled sound, but most of the time, silence. I no longer knew which direction was which. Was I moving forward or backward? How would I ever reach that beauty?
In my heart, I knew that the warmth of the fog would be comforting if I could just let go of my need to see the path in front of me. But letting go was so scary. My heart fluttered again, but this time, it was moths that I felt in the pit of my stomach. And there, in the middle of the path, I became frozen. I lost my way. I did not know which way to turn.
I tried to look back, to find my bearings again, to remember how things used to be. But when I did this, I got stuck in my thoughts, afraid that my turns had taken me too far off the path. I must have heard wrong somewhere along the way. I must have made a wrong turn. I needed to get back, but how? I had gone too far. There was no turning around now, no changing paths. I needed to finish what I started.
And so, in the middle of the path, I found a moss covered clearing and lay down to rest. I thought it would be cold, but I had been right, that fog provided a blanket of warmth. And as I let myself rest, my heart slowed, and my mind became clearer. I still couldn’t see further than one foot away from me, but with my mind quieter, I started to hear that still small voice again. I crawled towards it until it became clearer. And suddenly, the fog lifted.
And I realized that along the way, I had become so enamored with the beautiful destination that I forgot to stay near to the voice. I forgot that while that destination was beautiful, that gentle, loving voice was what I needed and what would lead me there.