I like detailed directions.

Extremely
detailed.

If you ever need directions to my house, I don’t just say turn
left on this street and right on that one. Oh no. I include important
information such as “Approximately 8/10 of a mile after you turn left you’ll
come to a curve that makes you feel like you should put your turn signal on. The
curve is 1/10 of a mile from your next right turn.”

People love
my directions.

Okay. Actually, they laugh hysterically when the
read them, but the reality is, if I give you directions, you are not going to
get lost. At least, not if you follow them.

This need for detailed
direction is probably why I struggle with Psalm 119:105.

Thy
word is a lamp unto my feet and a light unto my path.

I
learned the verse as a child and my mental picture involved an enormous
spotlight shining its powerful beam a good 100 yards down the path.

But
that’s not what we’re talking about here. Oil lamps don’t give off that much
light. We’re talking about just enough light to avoid stubbing your toe on a
root or slamming into a boulder.

And this frustrates me.

After all, God is quite capable of giving detailed
directions.

Have you seen the book of Leviticus? I mean
honestly. Talk about details. (I like to think I get my detail issues from the
Almighty—it’s nicer than admitting to being a bit OCD).

And talk about
lighting a path. This is the God of the Shekinah glory cloud and the pillar of
fire. God knows how to light up a path when He wants to.

And yet . .
.

He seems to prefer to give me just enough information to take
the next step.

No more. No less.

You can’t race along a
path with that little bit of light. Each step must be measured. Each foot
placement considered. You have to be on your guard at all times. And you have to
have faith that the destination is worth the harrowing journey.

Of
course, my faith is what’s at issue.

I have to trust that the One
who lights my path, knows my path.

So I continue to step out,
never knowing what’s next, but knowing He does.

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