The Path - an analogy

Rob and I are on the last day of our trip to Marquette, Michigan in the beautiful Upper Peninsula.  I seriously want to live here someday.  Not today.  But someday.  

While I've been here I've used some of the time to write up an analogy about my spiritual journey.  Rob and I have had many, many discussions about my new direction.  I have found it difficult to explain the paradigm shift that I've experienced, but while I was talking to him an analogy popped into my mind and so I wrote it out and expanded it, because I feel like it explains things fairly well.  It's an exploration of how I got from where I used to be to where I currently am. 

So, if you'd like, you can read the somewhat long analogy about my journey.  Even if you don't find it useful, know that it's been immensely beneficial to me to put it down in words.

The Path

I imagine myself driving in a car, on the way to Heaven. It's a far-off place, but it's worth the drive. I've heard how amazing it is, and I've felt a peace inside my heart that tells me that this is true. In Heaven, I get the things that I want, and what have I lost? Not much. I left the city of Natural Man long ago, happy to leave behind the darkness and confusion. If I have chosen a road that demands clean living, it is only because I don't think living otherwise will make me happier. Besides, those other roads were headed in the wrong direction.

This road trip, of course, is well-planned out. I know where to stop and when. I know to be careful about alternate courses that lead away from where I want to go. I have a map that's easy to follow. I am set. And gratefully so! Some people aren't lucky enough to have a map.

On top of that, God isn't silent here. He has installed a GPS device in my car and it tells me what I need to do when. He also updates me via radio on any necessary changes of course or dangers ahead. A classical music radio station broadcasts these messages, told to me by an inspired reporter. I am reassured, knowing that even if it seems at times that the GPS and the radio announcements conflict, it's only because I haven't listened well enough. With the right combination of consulting the map, fine tuning my radio signal, re-playing the GPS instructions, and prayer, I'll realize what I need to do.

I am careful on this trip. I have a checklist to follow to help me have a smooth trip. I know that even if some of these things seem difficult or time-consuming, it's the only way, or at least it's the best way to ensure reaching my final destination. I have daily, weekly, and monthly tasks that keep me moving along. I also have people who care for me so much that they call and help remind me to do each of those tasks. I'm grateful to have so many people on my team.

All-in-all, I am grateful to be on this roadway, heading towards Heaven. Even if it's hard sometimes, I know I wouldn't be happy with an easier path. I know too much to head in a different direction.

But then problems start arising. I'm listening to God's radio station, enjoying the soothing music, and I hear an announcement that conflicts with my GPS device. For the first time in my life, even after many hours of trying, I can't reconcile the two. I feel deeply uncomfortable, but I decide to go ahead and follow the directions given on the radio. After all, the radio station has never lead me astray before. I take a deep breath and I do it. Immediately, I realize that this was a mistake. I know, in my gut, that my GPS device was right all along. I keep driving, but I vow to never do that again. Next time there is no next time; I know what I will do.

Now there are billboards that have messages on them about why it's important to re-calibrate our GPS devises if they are malfunctioning. At first I see these billboards only once in a while, but pretty soon it seems like every single bill board is saying the same thing! And the classical music station is issuing warnings after every single song. I am confused by all of this, but it's okay because I'm still headed towards Heaven. It'll be worth it in the end, and then God can explain what it was all about anyway. That thought comforts me.

Soon after the billboards popped up, protesters start lining the streets. They're holding signs that say some pretty awful things about people who aren't following the inspired reporter closely enough. They're talking about me, I guess, but I don't feel like I'm doing anything wrong. I call friends and family and get advice from them. “Ignore the protestors. They're not worth your time.” I decide that my loved ones are right. I keep driving, but I can't help but notice that the protestors' numbers are increasing and, when I choose to look, the signs are getting more pointed. “IF YOU DON'T LIKE WHAT THE INSPIRED REPORTER HAS TO SAY, GET OFF THE ROAD.” and “GOD'S MESSAGE NEVER CHANGES. IF YOU DISAGREE WITH HIS RADIO STATION, YOUR GPS IS BROKEN.” and “IF YOU DON'T AGREE WITH US, WE DON'T WANT YOU ON OUR ROAD.”

One day, there's an announcement on God's radio station that I can't ignore. A car that was traveling on the road, following their GPS, was forced to get off. I know this has happened before, because the road to Heaven isn't easy and occasionally there are people who need re-routed. But this particular case is personal because my GPS is leading me in similar directions. I don't know what to do.

Everyday is confusing now. More and more I feel that my GPS and the classical music station are telling me to go in different directions. I can't turn off my GPS device because I vowed never to ignore it again. But I don't want to ignore the radio station, either, because that's not what good people do, and I'm a good person. I'm watching people exit the road to Heaven for a road that follows their GPS. There are a lot of them, it seems. Many more than before. Some of them are strangers, but some of them are people that I love and adore. What am I supposed to do?

I'm sending out distress calls to my loved ones. “Help me resolve this!” I plead. I'm encouraged to be patient, to pray harder, to study the map more closely, and to have faith that my GPS and the radio station will come back in line again. But I can't listen to it all any more. Everything is noise to me now: the protesters are screaming; the billboards are inches apart, all saying the same thing; and the radio station doesn't even play music any more, just warnings back to back to back. It all mashes together and swirls around my head, making me dizzy. I pull over and just sit there, trying to decide what to do. I turn off the radio, and I sit in silence. I sit there for a long time.

I finally come to some stark conclusions. One, I can no longer make this work. I've tried and I've failed. Two, I don't know how things will all work out, but I know I need to try something else. I can't make it to Heaven on this road. Maybe I'm giving up, maybe I'm too weak, maybe a million things, but I'm throwing in the towel. I don't want to take a different road, because I know too much to fully leave the road to Heaven. So I just sit there on the side of the road. I am done moving forward, trying to reconcile it all. I take my map and fold it up neatly. I take my checklist and turn it over. I lovingly touch the radio dial, but I don't turn it back on. I pine for easier times when the path seemed clear. But while I'm not sure what the future will look like, I know that the conflict needs to be over one way or another. So I take care of it. It's over.

I wonder what things will look like now. I still want to be on the road, but I want silence. A space to figure things out. I don't know how to do this. The conflict is over, but what does the resolution look like? These thoughts keep me company as I drift off to sleep.

When I awake I am shocked to find that everything is gone. There is no road, no protestors, no car, no GPS. On top of that, there is no landscape. There is nothing. All is blackness, a void, stretching on and on into forever. I don't know what place this is or how I got here. I don't even know what to call this space. But I am not afraid. This is a sacred space. I can feel it.

Even though I don't know anything about what this space is, I am comforted to be here. This void, this expansive void, is the most amazing place I've ever seen. It's not an empty space, like you imagine a void would be. On the contrary, it is filled to overflowing with peace and hope and truth. I don't know how this is possible. I don't know anything because this isn't a space I was prepared to find. The only thing I know is that I don't ever want to leave.

There is no longer a need to think about how to resolve any conflicts related to the road. There is no road here. There aren't even any conflicts here. My loved ones continue to give me advice on how to resolve issues or how to better navigate the road, but I now have a hard time understanding what they are telling me. The longer I stay in the void, the less I have a desire to re-find any road. The road will lead me to Heaven? Oh. That sounds nice. But have you seen this place? This place. It is already heaven. I can't explain it. It just is.

And that is the first understanding I have of this place, about what it is: It just is. It leads me quickly to several truths. First, I am. I exist. That's a good place to start. Second, I am a good person. I haven't lost the road, I have found a beautiful new place. This new place offers truth in a different way, a way that is hard to explain because it is new to me and I don't have words for it. But I still have access to truth and love and peace, and that means I'm still a good person. And lastly, God exists.

This last truth – God exists – is the most powerful, pervasive message of this new space I've found. All around me, and stretching into infinity, is God. God is love and hope and peace. So far I know that God is these things, and I don't know anything else. Is God in human form, with gender and a body and the ability to have a Son? No clue. Are we God's children? Again, I don't know. And there is no real push to know. This place offers truth – it's there, so obviously there – but suddenly those other things that I used to consider truths are insignificant. This place offers truth of a different sort. Everything else seems like an unnecessary detail.

This isn't a place where truth needs to be sought, because truth is already here. It just is. Running around looking for truth isn't necessary. If I stand right here, I will feel it. It is all around me. I feel it pressing against my skin and from there stretching into eternity. I can't define it. I just know it is. I can look inside myself and find truth, too. I am connected to it. I can close my eyes, listen to the beating of my heart, and I know my heart beats truth. We are all connected to it. God is around us and in us and through us. It's the most beautiful thought I've ever pinned down.

It is hard, in this space, to remember what I used to know. The language is all still there; I can recite from memory all the truths I used to claim as mine. But they no longer feel like my truths. I speak of those things as belonging to someone else. Slowly, and quite naturally, I think, the old truths are fading. I understand why this would alarm people, but I don't feel alarmed. The old truths seem unnecessarily complex. The new truths are simple and powerful. I could happily live my whole life in this comparatively bare space.

And maybe I might. I don't know. That's the beauty of the space I've found: I don't know much and I'm happy for it. Does the new space have a pathway, too? Does it lead somewhere? Is this space really a void, or can it look like something? If it can look like something, do I choose what it looks like? (If yes, then I choose a meadow!) Can I incorporate more truths over time? Do the old truths have a place here? Do I need to know more than I currently know? Will I really be happy in this space for the rest of my life? I don't know. It's a beautiful thing to embrace.