There was a pesky fly in my vehicle. He was a quiet one. He didn’t fly around much. But every time I’d think he was gone because I hadn’t seen him for a while, he’d show up again. He refused to be shooed. He’d fly away from the windows in out of reach places. I’m not in my car for extended periods of time, so I didn’t notice him most days. On the days he decided to join me in the front seat, I did my best to free him.
On the night I drove several hours after work, I didn’t see him at all. I’d tried to shoo him earlier in the day, and I assumed I succeeded. The next morning, a friend and I began a road trip, and it was two hours before he appeared, just as we parked at our first stop. We rolled down the windows and tried to shoo, coax, and frighten away. At one point, he flew out the window, but as the window crept closed, he flung himself inside. We started the chase again, and out he went. As the window closed, he was clinging to the outside of the window.
I get it. My car was cozy. He had plenty of room.
When we get stuck, complacent, or stubborn in our I-want-life-to-stay-just-this-way-mode, we’re not so different from that fly. But there’s more to life than a confined space. Outside that space are adventures and dangers, challenges and thrills. We can’t experience it all, but we often limit where we’re willing to go or even where we’re willing to stay. God determines the borders of our space and of our heart. Let’s go, stay, and explore when and where he leads.