Transparency Slides Might Not Be the Thing

They were pretty cool though.

Credit: mailer_diablo

When I was little, one of my biggest dreams was to grow up and join the worship team at my church. I didn’t want to sing or play an instrument though, I wanted to be the person sitting next to the overhead projector and switching out the transparency slides with the song lyrics on them.

I was fascinated by the entire process, and I loved seeing the shadows of the hands moving quickly across the screen. I couldn’t wait until I was old enough to volunteer. It felt like the biggest thing I could possibly do with my life.

Unfortunately, technology progressed too fast for me to ever achieve this. My church went digital shortly after I became a teenager, and now the lyrics are run by the tech team on a computer.

But I still think about those transparency slides. I can still picture the bright yellow glow of the overhead projector and the loud fan that was only drowned out when the worship team started playing. I remember how anxious I was for the time to go by, for me to be old enough, for me to finally get to do what I always wanted to do—what I thought I was meant to do.

And this is what we hope for in life, isn’t it?

Finding out what we’re “meant” to do. Discovering and fulfilling our purpose so that we might be sure we lived a good life. That we did it “right.”

And there are times when we will have our sights set on something, sure it is going to be that purpose, sure it is going to answer all the questions we’ve ever had; there are times when it feels like the stars align and everything is pointing to this thing being the thing, so when it doesn’t work out, we’re left confused, throwing our hands up, asking God why? Why didn’t this happen the way it was supposed to? Why can’t I do the thing I thought I was meant to do?

Transparency slides are obviously a small example. I think. Though I can’t be sure.

I’ll never know what would have been different about my life had I gotten the chance to do that job. But I believe that if an important part of my purpose relied on me having it, then I would have had it.

There is so much about the world that is out of my control, so many moving pieces that I could never (and should never) try to keep track of. There are countless decisions available to me every day, and countless choices I make. I could be living a million different lives right now if I did a few things differently, which worries me sometimes. It sends me spiraling in the middle of the night, causing me to doubt and dislike myself, because I wonder if I would be happier, better, more impressive if I would have done _____ instead of _______.

But what brings me peace is knowing that God never gets lost in the shuffle of decisions.

God never wonders what if.

God has a plan, and he is always at work. He is always in control of each and every piece, and can line them up perfectly.

So while I can be curious, I can visualize the points in my life when I met a fork in the road, and I can wonder if I made the right choice, I can also be confident that whatever choice I make, God can use it.

Not because He’s quick on his feet, not because He has the time to rearrange everything in light of my mistakes, but because He already knows what I’m going to do, and He’s still in control.

He has me on the right path, at the right pace, at the right time. And he knows when I’m going to stomp my foot in frustration, make a sharp turn off course, or turn around and run the other way.

He knows.

He’s still got it under control.

This doesn’t mean we won’t make mistakes, this doesn’t mean our decisions don’t hold weight, but it does mean that if God has something designed for us, we won’t miss it simply because we turned right instead of left. If God has a purpose carved out for us, we won’t miss it simply because we got lost along the way.

If God has a plan for you, he’ll walk you to it, he’ll walk you through it, and he’ll give you what you need to do it.

I still think about that overhead projector, I still remember that feeling of, I need to do that, and I still remember the disappointment when I realized I’d never get to. But now I like to imagine God shaking his head with a small smile, saying, “babe, I’ve got something so much bigger in mind.”

God knows where I need to be, and what I’m made to do. And I like to believe that I’m carrying out my purpose simply by being me—the me he designed carefully. I might never know the depth of my purpose, but I know I’m here for a reason, just like you are. And I like to believe that God’s up there somewhere, sitting next to the overhead projector, switching out the slides, chapter by chapter.