I’m going camping today. I’m not really ready, but I’m going. My mental list of what I want to bring including 4 things: guitar, Bible, pen, notebook. Now I know I’m supposed to bring a tent and clothes and food and all that other stuff. But that’s not why I’m going.
There’s definitely some sense of escapism in camping-the want to just get away from it all and have nothing to do. I hope to leave Dallas around 10am, but secretly know that it’ll probably be more like 1pm. That would give me twenty hours of light and twelve hours of dark before anyone else comes. That’s a lot of time to do nothing by yourself. I might be miserable before anyone else shows up, but I don’t think I will.
See, I’m going with a guitar. It’ll probably be severely out of tune in the cold. I want to write a song. Actually, I have 3 or 4 floating around in my head right now. But right now, they are too vague. I don’t know what they say, what they’re about, and of course, how they sound. It doesn’t sound like much is in my head... I want to sit down with the guitar and not play Zeppelin, Hendrix, or Clapton. I want to play for God and I want to write it down.
I want to make some decisions during those thirty two hours what God’s called me to and what that looks like. I know I won’t have tons of answers. I don’t necessarily think that by just sitting down and thinking that I could figure anything out. But I think with prayer it’s possible. I might get something. It’s that little kernel of hope that got me excited about going camping this time. In one sense, this is going to be one big quiet time. Something I’ve never been good at doing. Maybe God will speak through or to me. In prayer, I often ask a lot of things from God. Maybe this will be an opportunity for Him to talk and me to listen.
