What Do You Plan to Do With Your One Wild and Precious Life?

In my teens and right up to my early-20s, I dreamt of being a real “risk taker”, and I had quotes like Robert Frost’s “I took the one less travelled/and that has made all the difference”, and Mary Oliver’s “What do you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?” plastered all over my inspiration board.

It was so easy to dream in a safe environment, where I didn’t have any real responsibilities apart from not getting a C in my accounting (but I always succeeded in getting a C anyway), and showing up for my part-time work on time (and mustering the courage to ask the very grumpy payroll clerk why I wasn’t paid for x hours). 

So I dreamt of going away to big adventures abroad. Maybe I could be a foreign news correspondent, writing stories on the weak and oppressed. Or maybe (when I wasn’t failing accounting) I could be some hot-shot business-type person. 

But soon, years after graduation and having worked several jobs, I found myself less keen on going down the “road less travelled”, and opted for a safe and comfortable existence. And the only “wild” thing I did in my life was to relocate from New Zealand to Australia for a job opportunity. 

But one day, God hit me with a real “road less travelled”, challenging me with what I would do with my “one wild and precious life”. 

The organisation that saw me move to Australia in the first place went through a restructure, which affected my role. They offered me another one. Around the same time, a job opportunity had come up with another organisation, but it required a huge leap of faith because I had to fundraise my own support (very wild!). 

Two opportunities presented themselves. No one would fault me if I went with the first option, because all I had to do was sign the papers, and move on. The second option, however, came with a lot of uncertainties as Australia was in an economic recession then. Fundraising in a recession sounded so foolish. 

So I … went with the second option. And God travelled with me down the “road less taken”, which I am not going to lie, was filled with kinds of obstacles and thorns, and wild animals. Yet we travelled together, and when we emerged at the end of the other side, I can gladly say going down the “road less travelled” with God made all the difference. 

Below are two things I learnt with God as my walking guide. 

God Provides

The news was awash with stories of rising grocery prices, inflation, and mortgage rate hikes, when I started fundraising. 

I wasn’t sure who would want to finance a ministry worker in the face of such ghastly news. In fact, it seemed almost absurd that I was trying to fundraise in such a lean time. 

Perhaps I should have just signed with my previous organisation, and not have to worry about finances. 

I wrestled with it every day, and my prayer group prayed with me and over me in our weekly Monday meetings. I wasn’t sure if I’d ever be able to reach the mountain. 

And yet, over the months that followed, God provided through the generosity of His people. People who saw the vision and mission of this ministry, and wanted to invest in it so the gospel can go out.

It felt very surreal when the finances started coming in. It’s really hard to put it in words, so I’ll instead give you a soundbyte that was going through my mind.

“Whaaaatt…”

“This is craaazyyy”

“Noooo waayyy” 

Pretty much noises of disbelief. Like, God, I know You provide, but woowww, look at this! 

(I still get goosebumps re-telling this story.)

God Sustains 

I would be lying if I said finances came pouring in and my life was so amazing the moment I put my trust in God to provide, and the moment I did His will.

It was actually the reverse. My faith had never been more tested until I stepped into this role. I first came down with bronchitis and in the span of a month, a cold. People whom I had made appointments with to seek their support were suddenly made redundant, got sick, or completely forgot to show up. The X-Files theme song would make for the best OST in the back of all these happenings. 

Yet, God sustained me. He sustained me through the kindness of friends who prayed with me, heard my concerns, and bought meals for me. Another friend suggested I listen to a Tim Keller podcast titled, The Shield of Faith. 

“The enemy attacks at the front line,” Keller said. “People on the front line are much more likely to go down with a bullet than people who are cowering about five miles behind, like a lot of us do.” (It also felt God was bellowing into my heart.) 

Keller said the front line is the place of mission, where we open our mouths and go out on a limb to make the difference in a neighbourhood or city.

And when we do that, there’ll be all sorts of flying missiles. And this is why it’s so important for us to put on this “armour”, which is the shield of faith.

And that’s when fiery arrows and molten lava start pouring down, and this is when we have to lift our shields–big giant things, like a huge door–to defend ourselves. 

For me, lifting my “shield” meant praying, worshipping, and declaring God’s goodness in my life even on discouraging and disheartening days. I would pray, “The Lord is my refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble” (Psalm 46:1-2 ESV), “I lift up my eyes to the hills, from where does my help come from? My help comes from the Lord, who made heaven and earth” (Psalm 121:1-2).

And when my arms were tired of all the hefty lifting, I simply sought shelter under His wings (Psalm 91:4). Here I am God, just taking a cosy nap under Your wing. 

Venturing down the road less travelled isn’t always as glamorous as it’s made out to be. Sure, it made me feel bold and daring, going where no man would potentially go (especially in the middle of a recession), but it came with setbacks, bruised knees, and skinned thighs. 

Thankfully, my travel companion is also our Great Shepherd! And in His kindness and mercy, led me to green pastures and still waters (Psalm 23). While it may sound like He took me away on a big getaway, the real rest came to me when I surrendered (even though biting and kicking) it all to God because this is His work, and I am just His hands and feet. I had to rest in His provision and care. 

And He never fails. 

At the end of my first year, through God’s grace and the generosity of His people, I managed to meet my fundraising target. I was gobsmacked. 

And that role, which in human wisdom, would make more sense to sign on? It was rolled up after yet another restructure. (What a plot twist.)

Perhaps today you’re at a crossroads about a decision. You’ve been thinking of switching careers, taking unpaid leave to pursue further studies, or maybe feeling like God’s asking you to head down a really unexpected path. And your heart’s a little shaky about what the future holds. Can I assure you (after you have prayed and seek wise counsel) that you can trust God with the outcome because He is the most trustworthy walking guide you can ever have in your life.

Article supplied with thanks to City Bible Forum.

Feature image: Canva

Some of you have asked how my 30 Proverbs Challenge is going. Others have asked what my next book will be.

The answer overlaps in that I hope the 30 Proverbs Challenge (a proverb a day for a month providing wisdom for faith, flourishing, family, fortune and the future) will be my next book. I’m working on several key sayings at the moment, some of which readers of this blog have sent me, so my thanks to them.

Today’s proverb gives a little taster of what I’m thinking about.

Proverb: Regret should be a Signpost, Not a Home.

Most of us live with some regrets. There are challenges we backed out of, relationships we watched sour, decisions that were poorly considered, and outbursts that reflected poor discipline. It’s usually not possible to undo the past, and what has happened has happened. Regret can hang over us like a heavy cloud, and we might find ourself returning again and again to a wistful lament “if only…”

I don’t know what your “if only” song is, but for many it is set on replay, and a thousand small triggers can see it replay again and again.

Daniel Pink’s book, The Power of Regret has hit home for me. Pink surveys the most commonly cited regrets of thousands of people from around the globe as they approached their closing years. They fitted into 4 main areas.

Category 1 is Foundational Regrets.

Or those regrets that flow from a failure of discipline, often in childhood. It includes things like not making use of the piano lessons that were on offer, or the opportunity to learn a new language, or dropping out of school early, or perhaps not developing healthy habits like getting exercise and eating well. Without solid foundations, many issues that seem small at the time have a cumulative impact that becomes significant over the decades. Sometimes they see us self identify “I’m just not a disciplined person”, as though that is a valid reason not to change. They find their way into the “I regret” or “if only” list of our later decades.

Category 2 is Boldness Regrets. 

It’s the road not taken. Perhaps we always wanted to start a small business, but there was the mortgage to pay and kids to feed and an uncertain market. We push our desire down, but it doesn’t go away. In later years it morphs into the “I wonder what would have happened if…” The question simply hangs there. Others might want to answer it for us, “I’m sure you did the right thing. Do you know how many small businesses fail. You think you regret not having done that – I think you would have regretted trying.” They might be right, but inside many people there is a dissenting voice that cries out, “I wish I had tried, I wish I had given it a go.” Of course starting a business is simply one example. For others it’s “I wish I had written that book,” or “I wish I had tried to make it as a singer”. For some it is romantic, “I know she was out of my league, but I wish I had found the courage to tell her I loved her…” It’s the path we didn’t take because our fears dominated the agenda, and often it leads to long term regret.

Category 3 Notes Our Moral Regrets. 

The time you didn’t speak up when a staff member was unfairly treated, or a moral lapse that caused havoc for your marriage, or letting someone else take the blame for something that was at your door… We let ourselves down over the years, and often don’t know what to do with our moral failure, and might still feel the pain of the compromise decades later.

Category 4 is About Relational Regrets.

Largely around friendships we have allowed to lapse, or people we simply didn’t keep in touch with. Sometimes these are revived in later life, and former friendships are restored, but we are left with the wasted years and wonder why we didn’t take greater care to keep doors of communication open.

Helpful though Pink’s classification is, the wisdom of today’s proverb should be allowed to sink home. Regret should be a signpost, not a home.

Why?

Because if we allow regret to become a home, a nagging disappointment we constantly live with, we will regret the way we handled our regrets. No, I am not trying to sound cute or clever. I think it’s a really important point. Deciding how to deal with our regrets is important. If we wallow in them they can become a perpetual escape route from responsibility – the “so sad, but the train has left, and now it’s too late”, excuse. Our regrets can easily morph into our excuses.

Instead, we should let our regrets become signposts – pointing out a direction for the future. “I’ve let far too many friendships lapse in the past. I’ve learnt the lesson. It’s not going to happen again because this time I will…” And we make a plan. That’s learning from our regrets. Or, “I regret that I have always given up too quickly. I let setbacks overwhelm me. It’s not going to happen again.” That’s letting past regrets serve as a signpost. It turns what started as a deficit into a positive.

For those who are Christians, facing our regrets is made easier because we know of the love and forgiveness found through Jesus. In fact, without this, regret can be without consolation. But because of the forgiveness of the Cross we can face our deepest disappointments and hand them over to Jesus. He has an astonishing ability to remould and remake broken moments and wasted potential. There is a beautiful promise in Scripture, “I will restore the years the locusts have eaten” (Joel 2:25). Why not claim it?

Rather than allow regret to become a place of miserable escape, why not let is be a signpost, pointing you to a future alive with hope and new possibilities? Because regret is meant to be a signpost, not a home…

Article supplied with thanks to Brian Harris.

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About the Author: Brian is a speaker, teacher, leader, writer, author and respected theologian who is founding director of the AVENIR Leadership Institute, fostering leaders who will make a positive impact on the world.