I want what I want.

I’ve mentioned that before, haven’t I?

It’s fall in the Ozarks and the Lovely Lady and I are enamored with the vibrant, dynamic colors of the trees this time of year, even if I love nothing else about this season of decay.  Oh.  That’s another subject I’ve touched on before here, isn’t it?  I’ll just leave it and move along.

One day last week we set out on the highways and backroads to find a bridge (yes, another one) and to get our fill of fall foliage.  We successfully did both, but not before learning another life lesson.  Well, we experienced it together; whether I learned anything remains to be seen.

The bridge was in the Ozark National Forest at a point some two hours drive to the southeast of where we live.

It took longer.

Yes, I got lost.  In this day of GPS navigation and Google Maps, I got lost.  Certain I knew the route to the best highway that would lead us southward through the Ozarks, I missed my way in the maze of roadways through a nearby city.

Several tries with the map program on my phone got us no closer to the road I wanted to take.  Yet, I was certain it was a better route than the one that voice-in-a-box was laying out.  Finally though, I just input the coordinates of the bridge into my phone and followed its directions. Not happily.

I argued and blustered all the while.

“West?  I don’t want to go west!  Take us South, you stupid thing!”

There was more, but you get the gist.  The Lovely Lady did her best to be supportive.  I’m not easy to calm down when I get agitated.  Words only make me more frustrated.  So, she let me rave.

After many turns in opposite directions from which I supposed we would be going, I recognized the highway we were on.  It was miles from where I had intended.  And, not the one I wanted to be on.

But, it took us exactly where we needed to go.  Exactly.

By a different route than I had selected.

Why does my mind go to the man who was the Rock—Simon Peter—of whom the Teacher foretold he would go where he did not want to go, led by people he did not want to follow?  (John 21:18)

I know.  The reason Jesus said the words was to inform Peter how he would die, many years after his beloved Friend walked the road to that grisly cross.  Still, the words grip me, as an aging person who may have to do the same thing someday.  Not the crucifixion thing.  The being led where I don’t want to go thing.

I want what I want.

I want to get there following the path I choose.

May I say this?  Not only was the destination astonishing in its beauty and quiet charm, but the journey there and back was all that and more.  We visited the bridge, sliding our way down to the creekside to exclaim and skip rocks over the glossy surface of the water.  We stopped again and again, pulling into overlooks to gaze over valleys and lake vistas that beggar description.

The colors!  The majesty!  The heart of our Creator!

And yet, as I sit here pecking at the keyboard of my computer, all I hear in my ears is some aging man’s voice.  Whining.  Belligerent. Frustrated.

Oh.  That’s my voice.

I don’t do adaptable.  Or flexible.  Or teachable.  At least, not in the moment.

I want to be all of those.  When I’m ready for them.  But, that’s not the way we learn to be responsible and grow to maturity.

And, some of us make it harder than it really is.

Some never learn.

My friend asked last week if I would do a certain task again.  It’s a task I used to love doing.  When I felt capable of doing it.

The folks in our church family look forward to having a hymn sing once every quarter.  Four times a year, we gather to sing the old songs our mothers and fathers sang.  Our grandmothers and grandfathers sang them, too.

I began leading the singing at our fellowship some forty years ago. I have served in that way to varying degrees over the years.

But, I can’t sing for an hour anymore.  And, if you know hymns, you know the soprano/melody part is too high for most old men to sing.  I am becoming an old man.  My time limit for singing without stopping is about ten minutes now.

I do love sitting in the padded chairs on Sunday mornings and singing along with the worship team up on the stage.  I love the new songs we sing.  I love the hymns we still include in our worship time.

What I really love is that I am in my comfort zone.  No pressure.  If I sing, it’s okay.  If I stand and let the tears flow, that’s okay.  I’m comfortable.

Leading the songs isn’t so comfortable anymore.

Did I say I want what I want?

I told my friend I’d have to think about leading again when she asked me last week.  The Lovely Lady can attest to my caviling.  Multiple times, I groused and grumbled.

When my friend suggested that it might just be time to let the hymn time go by the wayside, I finally bucked up and agreed to lead the music.

Sure enough, my voice began to fail just a few minutes into the singing.  I asked the Lovely Lady at the piano to give me more support.  Then, I asked the folks in front of me to sing a little louder if I stopped singing momentarily.

She did.  They did.

We had a wonderful, delight-filled hour of making a joyful noise to the Lord.  Afterward, as we visited and had some refreshments, I was surprised at how many folks expressed their appreciation that they are still able to participate in this meaningful and worthwhile event.

I heard them, but in the back of my mind, I was hearing that aging man griping and complaining.  Again.

I’m not the only one, am I?  I mean the only one who has walked this far along the road, only to remember a lesson I should have learned—should have remembered—should have applied—a lifetime ago.

Here is the lesson.  I know; it took long enough to get here, but we’ve finally arrived at our destination.  It does almost seem like the trip described earlier, doesn’t it?

I need—need—to want what He wants.

Our old friend, the Apostle—you know, the one who wrote letters—said it pretty clearly to his friends in Philippi all those centuries ago:

For it is God who works in you, both to will (to want to) and to do (to perform) of His good pleasure. (Philippians 2:13, KJV)

I need to follow His GPS and experience in the journey.  Because, in the end, He wants nothing but good things for me.

Nothing but good.

And, I want that.  The good stuff He wants for me, I want that.

He intends it for all of us.  For all of our lives.

Surely goodness, surely mercy, shall follow me
All the days of my life.

Lesson learned.

Now to walk.

Company on the road would be nice.  You coming with?

I’ll try to keep the griping to a minimum.

 

You lead me in the path of life.
I experience absolute joy in your presence;
you always give me sheer delight.
(Psalm 16:11, NET)

Life is a journey that must be traveled, no matter how bad the roads and accommodations. (Oliver Goldsmith – Anglo/Irish poet – 1728-1774)

 

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