Blank Canvas

Thinking how CCM was much harder than life now, but in some ways much, much easier. Where I was handed outlines, and paint by numbers, I now am handed crisp white pages. For the first time I am faced head on with my future, without a full schedule to distract me. I suppose I live in a world where busy-ness and a full schedule equates purpose. Which brings me to every human's most asked and feared question: what is my purpose? CCM wasn't my purpose. It was there that I learned the medium and the message to voice my purpose. But still intact whether I am home, at CCM ,in Belize, married, single, rich, or poor, my purpose is and will always be my relationship with my Savior. 

Twenty years old and my life is a blank canvas. I no longer have school to hide behind. I am at the embryonic stages of beginning my own company with Amber. I contemplate going back to school-like food in the oven that's been taken out pre-maturely, how easy it would be to stick it back in a few more minutes, or in this case, years. 

Realizing that I am not on a summer break, that this "vacation", so to speak, is now my life and indefinite, is a very, very strange feeling. For once in my entire life I feel like I've been handed the canvas, or the clay, or the pen and paper, as I scramble to catch the words of the Author and copy them as accurately as I can onto the pages. 

Is this too big of a responsibility for a 20 year old? I guess being king at the same age was David's call, and a Prophet of God Jeremiah's call, and a mother of the Messiah, Mary's call. Perhaps my only real set back is society in this culture's day and age and the immensely low expectations they have on "kids." But I can't help but think, what if just because little Johnny doesn't have to stay home at ten years old to run the farm, and little Martha isn't being a stay at home wife at 13, society still expected a boy to become a man when he got his license, or graduated high school, or moved out of the house? I understand, well, the necessity of the season of trying to figure life out, where the shaky transition takes place. What I fear to excuse is the generationally impending age that we expect a man to be a man and a woman to be a woman. What used to be 13 is now 27. And you still hear of 27 year old "boys" addicted to video games, still mooching off of mom and dad.

But anyway, I am getting off the point. 

Here I am: 20, on the brink of adult independence. For the most part, the Author tells me what to write. But sometimes His whisper gets choked out in a world of noise and I'm forced to seek Him more diligently. And other times He lets me make the choice on my own. 

Am I mature enough to uphold these lofty responsibilities? Society might say no- that I need more schooling, or a plaque on my wall to prove my ability and credibility. 
But obviously God has spoken otherwise.

So, forward I walk, unapologetically and unwavering, abiding in the shadow of the Faithful Guide, letting my lack of knowledge and numerous inabilities be my strength as dependence on Him takes over. I'm excited to see what is next for a God that delights in doing the impossible. 
For at His side, I too can partake in life at it's fullest.