One day I was striving forward, kicking stones and leaping over obstacles. I trudged through the unfamiliar jungle, whipping my machete back and forth to cut down the forbidding overgrowth that tried to hold me back. I could hear the rushing water of our meeting place, though I was still a long way off. I could picture the deep green pastures there beside the freshwater stream.

Equipped with purpose and power, knowing that my Master waited there for me, having prepared an unbelievable picnic spread under sprawling trees and a tapestry of wildflowers, I fought through the chaos with the knowledge (not just hope) that He was there and that we would soon be together and delight in one another’s company with food, drink, conversation, and laughter.

But it was getting dark, and I was still quite a distance from my Master’s presence. I continued slicing my way through the branches, but I was becoming exhausted and thirsty; and I began to feel alone knowing I was deep in a treacherous territory where bands of thieves reside and where vicious beasts prowl waiting to devour me. It got to the point where I had to take more and more frequent rests to gather my strength while trying to remain vigilant. At one point, however, when I was most weary and very slow to get up, it’s then that I heard a strange yet familiar voice speak to me and begin to share with me a gentler, simpler path through the dangerous unknown.