Field of dreams . . .

I once had a picture of a man standing in a field covered with precious gems and stones. From what I could tell, he had been given a short amount of time to gather as many of these gems as possible. As he stood gazing across the wide expanse of this magnificent field, his eyes came to rest upon a tremendously large treasure chest at the edge of the field. Forgetting the beauty and richness which he was surrounded by, he began to run headlong towards the far end of the field, in anticipation of finding the chest filled with what he was originally surrounded by. However, once he reached the treasure chest, his face fell with the realization that he had spanned the entire length of the field, and expended all his allotted time, only to find the treasure chest contained nothing.

There is a prevalent misunderstanding, it seems, among Christians and non-Christians alike, that the goal is to arrive, that the destination is more important than the journey, and that the future is more valuable than the present. These are the people who are so eager to fulfil their 'destiny' that they rush through life only to be greeted with an empty treasure chest. I would like to suggest that it is the process which makes the end so valuable. It is the gleaning of our daily gems which fills the treasure chest of our future. Our future is only as valuable as our present decisions. In the words of Oswald Chambers:

"God is not working towards a particular finish; His end is the process - that I see Him walking on the waves, no shore in sight, no success, no goal, just the absolute certainty that it is all right because I see Him walking on the sea. It is the process, not the end, which is glorifying to God."

Wow. That certainly encourages me, especially since it is hard sometimes to see where God is leading us. It also reminds me of something I just read by Anne Lamott in her book, Bird by Bird. She wrote:

"E.L. Doctorow once said that 'writing a novel is like driving a car at night. You can only see as far as your headlights, but you can make the whole trip that way.' You don't have to see where you're going, you don't have to see your destination or everything you will pass along the way. You just have to see two or three feet ahead of you. This is right up there with the best advice about writing, or life, I have ever heard."

Makes sense to me. And it certainly takes a lot of pressure off. We'd love to have the ten year plan, the light that illuminates the distant mile markers, but I think we are learning to cherish the lamp that illuminates our feet, and the next step along with it.