One day you'll find that I have gone
For tomorrow may rain so I'll follow the sun.
     I'm at that point our society sets aside for my generation as "decision making time."  I have one semester of undergrad left, so that chapter about UofM is forming its final paragraph, and I'll have to move on to something else. Then I will flip the page to the next chapter that God's given me.   At the end of the UofM chapter He uses a metaphor: I'm walking down a hallway with all these doors that are open for me to peek in to.  One of them contains a room with Shakespeare and bright lights. Another of highways and music about social justice.  Another of drizzly Chicago Streets.  New York City.  Another year in Ann Arbor teaching Sunday School at NWF.  These doors are constantly opening and shutting.  After a while I find myself perplexed at the lack of certainty in these doors: which should I pick?  I don't have enough information to pick. 
      That Beatles song is in my head.  "I'll Follow the Sun."  I'm going to have to make a decision, and I'll probably leave some people who I love behind.  I've spent a few nights in sorrow over that.  But I don't think I will be sad about that any longer.  Because I'm doing the only thing I can do.  I'm Following Jesus.  And to the world it looks as pointless and as ambigious as following the sun.  But it's not, not to me. 
     I can't control my destiny.  Sorry to those existentialists out there, but I can't.  Sometimes I think I can but then I meet my old friend, disappointment.  But when you are following the sun, disappointment is a minor detail. It's like that koopa-troopa in MarioKart that holds up the big red "X" when you're going the wrong way. (Did I ever use that metahor before? Heh, I like it.).   That thing is annoying as hell, but it's a good thing, because someone's got to tell us when we're facing the wrong way.  So I turn around and face the right direction again. 
    Anyway, it's a good thing to remember when the World is telling  us to make a decision.  There's only one we need to make.  To follow.
December 26, 2003
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