I have a way of isolating myself when the going gets tough. If I'm in a bad way I tend to turn completely inward and shut out all semblance of human connection. The idea is that if it's the world causing hurt, then it's only by turning inward and trusting myself that I will find peace.
"I'm with you."
Still there is this nagging need even when I'm isolating myself internally to be connected with the people around me externally. Shutting down and finding strength in myself essentially puts a veil over my face and heart that allows me to only think and speak in half truths.
"I'm with you."
Right before he ascended into heaven Jesus promised his disciples in the book of Matthew that he would be with them always, to the very end of the age. In 2 Corinthians 1 we see Paul describe God as being full of compassion and comfort, in the Psalms we hear God described as a refuge and hope, an ever present help in trouble, a mighty fortress, etc.
"I'm with you."
I feel like I'm stepping out into the vast forest of the unknown right now.
Marriage.
Family.
Career.
Calling.
Finances.
Purpose.
Faithfulness.
Manhood.
It's like every big huge topic that I spent my late teens and early 20's preparing for and thinking about as far off is currently right on my doorstep. But I have been apprehensive to answer it's incessant knocking.
"I'm with you."
Picture the wilderness. A vast wood shrouded by a dark cloud. I'm sitting in a dank clearing on a log positioned by what once was a campfire, but now is only ash. Everything is damp from the storm that just came through. The fire is gone, the trails around me hard to make out or navigate. Are they even there?
"I'm with you."
I take a deep breath and breathe a heavy sigh, I am out breath but can still see it in the fog. The cold air highlights what's left in my lungs.
"I'm with you."
I thought I heard a voice, but I'm alone. I close my eyes. This is the end.
"Hey Corey. I'm with you. Open your eyes."
When I do I see the landscape has vastly changed. A warmth comes over me from the roaring fire now lain at my feet, a crisp breeze comes in and the birds are chirping again. The sun is out and the trails are clear. And next to me is a man who I feel like I have never seen yet have known my whole life.
With a smile he looks up from poking at the fire and says "where do you want to go?"
All of the sudden the sunlight shines through the trees and the trails surrounding our campsite are clear, like they've always been there.
He says again "where do you want to go? I'm with you. Whatever you choose. Of course I have an opinion of which trail is best, but I love you and I'm with you whichever one you pick. By the way, I have always been here. I'm with you."
I don't know what comes next. But I'm getting rid of my fear and trusting Jesus. I'm crawling out of my shell and letting him and others walk with me. What once was a dark wilderness is now an exciting journey, teaming with life ad possibilities. But even though I'm not sure where the trails lead, I know the one beside me, and how he will never walk away.
Maybe that's all I ever needed to know.
