I Have No Clue What I'm Doing

At least when I start. What confidence I may appear to have is probably just good acting. Most people I've met, worth their salt in whatever category of this or that, started out this way: unsure, insecure, incompetent, paranoid, bumbling, terrified. But they picked up a pen, or a hammer, or a spatula, and kept whacking things till something worked, then worked more often, then consistently worked.

Following Jesus is has been the same way. As I grow, I care less about having it down before setting out, even before arriving. And when I do look back, my regrets are only that I wouldn't have started fumbling through failure much sooner.

But I understand why I didn't. I used to fear my daily and severe failure, my incompetence, my bouts of apathy. As a friend once put it, "if I know I'm going to screw it up, why bother beginning?" God was the angry grandpa, ever disappointed. I didn't feel like giving him any more ammunition.

I am gratefully beyond (for the most part) the God-I-Made-In-My-Image, which deserves the best southern sweat-rag radio preacher I can muster, "Prayeeessah the Lawd!" I once was blind but now see the face of the one who can sympathize with my weakness, who invites me to bumble into glory. In a line that Rich Mullins may or may not have coined (which inspired a piece of music), "If I make my way swaying drunk from side to side, is it any less the way home?"

After all, the man walking home sobers up faster than the one who never leaves the bar.