In exactly 30 days, I land in Scotland for a four week adventure that I have anticipated, on some deep-in-my-knower levels, since 2000.
I don’t even know how to talk about it.
I have so many questions for God. I hope Scotland holds those answers. Maybe not the place itself, but the time. The distance. The lonely moments without any of my friends. The quiet moments. The conversations with my Scottish friends. Conversations with my God.
So I’ll pack my things in one suitcase [or two] and I’ll stuff my questions in side pockets, shoes, and other tiny spaces.
I have questions about my art. What is next? What does that look like? How soon can I start and how soon will I be done? Is it another book? It is something else?
I have questions about art in general. And creating. And worship. And how my life is art and how I want to grow in that.
I have questions about my future. Is it Nashville? I hope so. Is it Scotland? I hope so. [And 2 “I hope so” statements aren’t a good thing.] It is some weird hybrid of the two + more? Is this trip about clarity or deeper longings? I want to know what’s next.
I have questions about God. And me and God. And who we are as a unit, if that makes any sense at all. I want to know Him and I want to know what our next adventure will be.
I have questions about this little book. About God’s plan for it. About where God’s plan for it meets and takes over my plan for it. And what the next steps are.
I have questions about relationships. [Oh here she goes.] About why some work, about why some don’t, about why some have to be sacrificed on the altar of God Knows Best. About how to have healthy boundaries and healthy honesty and how to cultivate the kind of community that breathes those things.
I have questions about how all these things work together. What does this puzzle look like when all the pieces are finally laid down? How do my desires to be a speaker and my desire to live overseas coexist? I feel like my dreams are an overflowing toy chest and I can’t decide which toys to play with first.
I have questions about my dreams. The ones that I shout from the rooftops and the ones that I barely can whisper to my closest friends. And I have questions about your dreams. And how we keep talking about them until they are real.
I have a lot of questions. Many of them I am almost too afraid to ask.
It is not that Scotland is to be a Magic8 Ball that I turn upside down for answers. Instead, I want Scotland to stir up those bubbling questions so fiercely that I can’t help but seek out the answers.
I feel the bubbles even now. I can’t tell you how many times a day they simmer and pop and float to my mind. I don’t know what it is, I don’t know what God is doing, but I know the times, they are a changin’. In the words of CS Lewis, “Aslan is on the move.”
So a month from today, when I am a weary but happy traveler, I hope I don’t have all the answers. I hope I am not looking for answers.
I hope, instead, that I can no longer contain the questions.