Today I was thinking about the major culture shock I experienced when I went from being homeschooled to attending a public high school of 2800 students. Aside from waking up early, meeting new people, making friends, having strict deadlines and figuring out PE, probably the roughest thing for me was figuring out the expectations I was supposed to be fulfilling. While some teachers would give us a detailed syllabus, I still had difficulty figuring out what was required reading, how to prepare for an exam and--most frustrating--how long they actually meant for my papers to be (does "4 pages" mean double-spaced or single-spaced? Do I count references or headers?). I really just wanted explicit directions before I could get started.
This got me thinking about an analogy for life. We start with some toys and we slowly begin to learn various unrelated things--the color wheel, multiplication, subject-verb agreement, the water cycle. These are tools that we all need at some point in our life but which may seem pointless and frustrating when you first learn them. This is analogous to learning a set of instructions for a task that you don't understand; you just know some basic math, communication skills and safety precautions.
So then you get to high school. You're expected to analyze situations and formulate opinions, but you're still expanding on that initial set of instructions that you learned. You're finding out the reason that they work but you still don't understand why you need them. At this time, you're introduced to the task that you're going to be expected to complete: you get an idea in your head that you're going to have to find a job, but you can't picture it and all of your work is highly irrelevant to that task of choosing a career.
Here's where things diverge. Either you go to college or you find a job, but in either case you're expected to begin the process of self-sufficiency. So you have your set of instructions and as soon as you graduate high school you can clearly see the task in front of you. In our analogy let us picture this as an airplane; up until this point you were picturing the planes your parents fly but you didn't know what yours would look like. You hop into the plane and expect everything to be great, but realize that there are a lot of things that your training didn't cover.
Suppose you go to college and realize that you have some time before your plane has to take off. You might find a co-pilot somewhere along the way, but even they can't tell you where you're flying. You spend some time learning new things: how to live with other people, how to complete ambiguous assignments, how to speak Russian, whatever. And while these are more practical than your previous experiences, they don't tell you how to navigate a plane at all. By the time you get to senior year, the engines are revving up and you're moving to the runway. Everything is shaky and scary and you suddenly have a fear of being up in the air even though you know that you've been training for this for years and that everyone else seems to handle it just fine. But every time you've been in another airplane, your parents were there and they knew how to figure out insurance and groceries and rent and taxes; this time, it seems like you have to know everything.
Once you're in the air, you remember that you still don't know where your destination is. So you just start flying and it feels great but you're burning up fuel. You may have to transfer flights halfway through your journey, and this is terrifying on the descent but once you're in the new plane you realize that this is a much nicer ride and that you really needed that extra fuel. Eventually you have to land. You've come as far as the plane can take you and you think you're ready to just get off. But as you near the ground you start thinking about the future and start wondering what it will be like without the comfort of your cockpit: you know everything you need to about flying a plane but now it's of little use to anyone. Even if you try to tell your kids about it, you realize that they need to fly by themselves in order to get anything out of it. So you land--it might be bumpy--and then you get out of the plane and you stare at it for a little while. You don't know who you are without it. You turn your back and walk away but you can't help but think of it when the morning comes and there aren't any switches to flip or people to call.
Here's the thing. I can't even see my plane. I don't know if it's an economy-sized plane or what. I'm going to climb into it in a year and I know it will be fine, but when it comes time to land I don't want to look back and realize that because I'm retired I no longer have an identity. Don't let your career/plane/destination define you...you spend most of your time making little decisions or even making small talk, and when you're up in the air, the color of the plane and the travel route really don't make any difference. What matters is how closely you're listening to your air traffic controller: are you taking directions from your gut or from someone who can see the big picture? We all have these big plans for our flights but if we all just go at it alone, sooner or later someone will get hurt. You're not always going to get explicit directions; you will have to rely on your previous training. But if you listen closely you may be able to avoid a crash.
What it comes down to is this: can you trust someone who you can't even see? Do you trust God or are you really tryna fly solo?