One Step at a Time
by Pat J. Sikora
It was already dark when we reached the path to the cabin. Joshua's stubby two-year-old legs trudged the few hundred feet toward the door, up the small hill, then down, winding first to the left, then to the right. I walked behind him, holding one chubby little hand while shining my flashlight a step ahead of him.
"Da-ark, Mommy. Dark." His words held a little fear, a little awe. This was new territory to him, and I was, it seemed, asking him to lead the way. Every few steps he would veer out of the light and stumble toward the overgrowth near the path. Each time I would gently guide him back onto the trail, continuing to shine my light so that his way was clear.
"Just walk in the light, honey. Stay in the light and you'll be fine."
I encouraged him again and again, yet every few steps he would step out of the area I had lighted, lose his footing, then repeat, "Dark, Mommy, Dark."
From my higher vantage point I could see not only the few steps ahead of him that were lighted, but farther down the trail and to the the right and left. I could see potential pitfalls many steps ahead, and I cautiously, lovingly guided him away from them. I warned him when we would be climbing and when the trail would take us down. But he, just three feet tall, could see only the next step into the light. He had no choice but to trust me and depend on me for his safety. Yet sometimes he walked out of the light into danger.
As I watched him, I realized how like me he is. Our heavenly Father always walks with me, lighting my next step with the lamp of his Word and the nudging of his Holy Spirit. Yet, like Joshua, I want to see the whole path ahead of me. I chafe against having to walk by faith, one step at a time. I want more than God's flashlight, much preferring that he use a searchlight so that I can see far into the territory ahead of me. Like Joshua, I sometimes stumble from the path into the brambles, not only hurting myself but also slowing my progress. And yet, like a loving parent, our Father picks me up, places me on the path again and gently reminds me. " Just walk in the light child. Stay in the light and you'll be fine."