Last night, as I was drifting off to sleep, I was starting to think ahead to this “writing career” that I am launching in earnest now; these words came to mind – “If you write it . . . .” As is my usual tendency, I had started to think about writing not as writing in an of itself but as a way to make income, sort of that age old cart before the horse analogy. For how was I going to make money if I didn’t write anything.

But you see, here is where my control issues come to the fore. I think that somehow I, on my own, must figure out how to make this life of freelancing work. Only Andi can solve this problem that only Andi created. Yet, I know that I did not step into this life simply because I wanted it (although I do want it); I did this because I felt it was what I was called to do, what I needed to do as a person on this planet. That call did not come from me, although I was made to answer it; that call came from the sovereign God who asked me to step out in faith and follow that call. So I’m not on my own in this at all; God’s got it all under control.

Perhaps this would be easier for me to accept if something seemed to be happening – if I sold my house, if I had a great gig lined up, if private students were banging down my doors for writing classes. But none of these things is happening. Instead, I’m in the place of waiting. I’m not good at waiting. I’m particularly bad at it when people I love are worried for me, when they are looking at me a little askance because they know a mortgage payment is coming, when they want to know if I have a plan. In those conversations, I get a little more nervous.

Because the truth is, I don’t have a plan. I know where I feel I should be sometime in the future, but I don’t know when sometime is. I don’t really know how to get there, and to be honest, getting there seems – from where I sit now – almost impossible. Yet, I know this dream is not impossible. My God is a God of the impossible.

A few years ago I read Madeline L’Engle’s book Walking on Water. In this collection of chapters, L’Engle discusses how people have been taught not to believe in miracles, that as we get older we are taught to look for evidence and probability. But she challenges us to believe in “probable impossibles.” Her prime example, my favorite human in the Bible, Peter, who in his enthusiasm to meet God ran right out of a boat and across the water, simply because God asked him to. Now, Peter got wrapped up in the probability of things when he was halfway to Jesus and started to sink, but Jesus, in his infinite grace, reached down and took Peter’s hand and helped him the rest of the way across the water. L’Engle says we should believe that we, too, can walk on water.

So this morning, here I sit, these words in my head – “If you write it . . . ” I think of Kevin Costner and his baseball field; I think of my farm in the valley; I think of articles with my name on them; but mostly I think of my God reaching out God’s strong right hand and walking with me across the water.

I will move as God calls me, across the waves and the words, walking across the water with God.