Monday, March 08, 2010
Why I love the tipping point
The tipping point is that place right before all the action happens and time dances for just a moment. It is that place where your mind races through approximately one billion different scenarios—successes, losses, huge victories, crushing defeats—while time hangs. It is the place where no path is forbidden, no door is yet closed, and all that exists is possibility. The tipping point is after the pregnancy test has been peed on and before the results show up. The tipping point is holding a lottery ticket just before they announce the winning number. The tipping point is right after the cars crest the first climb of the roller coaster and right before you raise your arms.
It is a place that like no other is pregnant with potential. And I love that moment. I live for that moment.
I love that moment not because it is safe (it’s not). Not because I hate to commit to one path (I don’t). Not because I am afraid of making the wrong choices (I’m not). Not because I’ll be frightened by the hard work that will comes afterwards (I won’t). But I love that moment because in that one suspended heartbeat of time I see threads being woven together. Each thread is a vibrant future possibility. Each thread is tied directly to another possible outcome. Each outcome spawns new possibilities. And in that eternal microsecond of the tipping point colors, hues, and shades of potential are woven skillfully and masterfully, with blinding, blurring speed into a tapestry that reveals the human stories of what may yet come. All our joys, all our sorrows, all our triumphs, the hopes and fears of all the years, each is a thread being held and woven by a single, masterful hand. A hand who cares more about what the future may hold than even I do.
The hand weaving that tapestry is the hand of God.
I love the tipping point because there in that silence between “tick” and “tock” I see God’s benevolent guiding hand over our days to come more broadly, more deeply, than I do at any other time. I see that He truly does both see and hold the future—no matter what that future may be—and that I can entrust myself, my family, and my church to Him.
And so, as the tipping point comes to an end and my glimpse into future’s tapestry fades, I close my eyes . . . raise my arms . . . and plummet screaming with joy down the thrilling, exhilarating ride into God’s future.
God, do I love the tipping point.