What's Next?

For my last post I blogged about an exciting event that helped launch a book that I’ve been writing for almost three years. It felt amazing to finally hold a long-awaited copy in my hand. As I look forward to the day when it will go live on Amazon and other venues, my imagination goes wild with the possibilities of what God might do with this book. This week, however, that excitement is being replaced with uncertainty? Why? Because I have no idea what is next for me.

I know I am finishing a story for Kathi Macias’s 12 Days of Christmas Series and polishing a devotional to hopefully contribute to another project, but beyond that, my writing future is a mystery. I’ve never been a big fan of mysteries, particularly when I’m the main character and have little or no say in the plot twists. 

This afternoon, however, I decided that I do have a say; I can either see “What’s Next for Jeanette” as terrifying or thrilling. I have the choice to panic or sit back and wait for the surprise. Today, I am asking God to deepen my appreciation for mysteries, particularly those that star Him as the hero who gets to call all the shots and me as the supporting character. I pray that He will help me to remember that He knows what He is doing, even when the next chapter includes nothing more than a blank page with a giant question mark at the top. 

What about you? Are you enjoying the mystery?

Uncertainty

The state of the economy is having a really weird impact on my decisions, goals, and dreams lately. I’m finding it interesting . . . and hard. I’m guessing I’m not alone in this. Have you felt it too?

Stepping back and taking a look at it, I notice that a few years ago it seemed easier to pursue my passions, to believe that the ways I most desired to serve and work would . . . just happen. They often did. I prayed and worked hard, so it wasn’t like it came without sweat and dedicated effort.

Now, I seem to be consistently hitting walls. The hard work is still there and definitely the passion, but the effort falls in pieces to the ground. I sweep the pieces into a little pile and scoop them up, try to take in a different perspective. Then I go at it again from a new angle, only to find myself bent once again to the ground gathering the pieces.

I realize I no longer have the easy crutch of ready resources and opportunity. Was I really trusting God then? I think so. Just differently than I must now. This is good though—good for my soul and for my desire for deeper connection to God. Good for stepping into what is next with him, knowing it will not look the same as it has.

I trust him in the uncertainty . . . more than ever before.



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