When my son was diagnosed with Tourette Syndrome six years ago, I had a
complete and utter meltdown began my search for Jesus. That first part crossed out? Totally true. But that second part about finding Jesus? That was the critical matter. I had to know that while there was no cure for tics and twitches, stability rested in God. Tics might come and go, along with my fleeting emotions, but I needed reassurance that God was the same yesterday, today and in the future.
Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and forever. —Hebrews 13:8
While I could read the above Bible verse until I was blue in the face, it wasn’t enough. I needed people who I could lean into. After all, I was
a vulnerable crazy mess on a spiritual quest. I was desperate for a guru. Similar to a Boy Scout for Jesus, I needed a guide – preferably one in a cute uniform with official looking religious patches – that made me feel safe. Someone who would take me down a path already traveled. Ideally it would be well lit, paved, and offer maps tucked neatly inside cute little birdhouse style boxes along the way. (That whole Robert Frost “The Road Not Taken” deal? Um, not for this control freak, thank you very much.)
Oh, how I would have enjoyed a cute Scout – let’s call him Hank, shall we? –pointing out interesting sites along the way. “Check out Jesus turning water into wine! And look – over there! The Disciples are having a heated argument over who gets to sit next to God in heaven!”
Hank would be plucky and passionate, chuck-full of theology and engaging scripture knowledge: “Here’s a little trail guide you can read about the Roman Empire and how Jesus’ teaching are in perfect alignment with the prophecies of the Old Testament. Read it when we’ve safely crossed this brook which… dude…. Jesus could totally walk right over if He chose to! Matthew 14:22-33!”
No, as much as a flashlight of illumination would have lit up the dark and lonely track I was on, it was not to be – and for good reason. All the people in my current troop were interested in taking different trails. My husband wanted to hike down “I’m an Atheist Mountain Range.” My friends and other family members professed interest in the “Maybe there’s a God Byway” but, in the end, felt more comfortable ambling down the “I’ll Stick with My Own Way Trail.”
I had zero problem my inner circle having alternate visions. In fact, it was their different approaches to life that made my scenery up to that point so much more vibrant. While I might only notice flowers and birds, someone else might pick out a fabulous cloud formation. While I might fumble with my trusty GPS, they might abandon pre-programmed maps, throw caution to the wind, and take me to a location I never dreamed existed.
The problem was, though, that I was no longer interested in an adventure of the unknown. The future of my son’s condition was something I wanted answers for. And since the medical world couldn’t provide them, the spiritual world would have to do. My old “be open to everything” fallback would not do. I needed one guru. One guide. One teacher. I needed Jesus.
I just didn’t know it yet.
Oh yeah, that was fun. Come on back in a few days and read more!
Leave a comment: Is anyone else out there, walking a path by themselves? Let me know. I’ve been there and will do my best to walk with you. More seasoned trailblazers? Leave a comment of encouragement. You never know when your flashlight in the dark might give someone the hope they need to keep on walking.
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