Sometimes it is difficult to know where I am headed. I have an idea of the ultimate destination, but I do not know what waits for me between here and there. I know where I am headed now. I know the port in which I am to land. But I do not know what lies in wait for me as I set sail from this sunny port full of friends and family waving and calling, "Bon voyage!" as my boat pulls away from the harbor.
It is possible that the weather will be beautiful. It is possible there will be sunny skies and a favorable wind to get us, my Captain, crew and I, safely to our next destination. Maybe we have enough fresh water and food to get us there without a touch of scurvy or the need to ration our provisions. Maybe we'll be able to rig up a couple of hammocks on deck and take turns napping and reading as we sail from port to port. It might even be the right time of year to see the Gray Whales migrate up north for the summer.
But what if we run into bad weather? What if we encounter Sirens at a moment when I am not well focused on the voyage at hand, but am dreaming of the port that awaits? What if I am drawn to their enchanting music and focus on them and not the dangerous rocks their song seeks to hide? What then becomes of my shipwrecked boat and crew? Is it salvageable? Will we be able to fashion some sort of raft or will we be forced to sit on top of floating luggage, flare gun in hand, until another ship passes by?
As I sit surrounded by my fears I remember that it is not I who captain this ship. The chance and the choice to sail ahead are mine, and on my own the maps, charts and stars confound. But I do not interpret or chart our course alone. I seek the guidance of my Captain and trust the crew He's hired for this journey. He has navigated rougher waters than these, though never before with me in the boat. And so it is with both trepidation and excitement that I ready myself for the journey ahead, thankful for that the Captain of this vessel is not me, but that I am on board and ready to set sail.