When I was a child, I was given a ticket.
I knew it was special, so I did not want to lose it.
So I tucked it away, where it could never get lost.
I would take it out and admire it, occasionally showing it to others, but usually keeping it to myself.
As I grew older, I trashed everything, having little respect for myself or others. The ticket was still valid, right? Of course, I thought, as long as I am sober enough to find it in case I need it. Besides, I figured I wouldn't need the ticket for many, many years.
As I settled down and desired to have a new life, the ticket became a treasure, once again special. When all else failed, I still had my ticket, I would tell myself. I would check it every day, often many times a day. I would look at it more carefully, since it was of renewed importance. The more important the ticket became, the more I would look at all the times I had folded it, spilled liquor on it, took it to places you wouldn't take a treasure, and acted like it didn't exist.
Of course, it was still valid, right? I looked at it incessantly, and in the middle of the day, I would have nightmares that maybe I had lost it. I went to the experts, hoping I could get a new ticket. I was assurred there was nothing wrong with the one I had. But why did it feel like I had lost it? Why did I have to check over and over and over to make sure it was there, only to dread I had lost it an hour later.
Then I would dream while awake that I was tearing the ticket up. It felt so real that I had to look again for the ticket. I would call ticketmaster, but I was so panicked, I could not hear the response. This must have confirmed I had lost the ticket forever. This would continue, despite my desire to have this ticket. My world was shaken and my future seemed lost.
Gradually, amazingly, and with great patience and mercy, God taught me that what I needed was a tour guide, not a ticket. This tour guide's name is Jesus. I surrendered the tattered ticket to him, slowly, incompletely, and reluctantly. In His tender way, He has shown me how expensive the ticket was. He assurred me that it was paid in full, and that it was never really mine to lose. He is teaching me that the trip has already begun and has replaced a token with a lamp unto my feet and a light unto my path. He has given me many wonderful people with which to travel, but solemnly gestures to the empty seats around me.
I knew it was special, so I did not want to lose it.
So I tucked it away, where it could never get lost.
I would take it out and admire it, occasionally showing it to others, but usually keeping it to myself.
As I grew older, I trashed everything, having little respect for myself or others. The ticket was still valid, right? Of course, I thought, as long as I am sober enough to find it in case I need it. Besides, I figured I wouldn't need the ticket for many, many years.
As I settled down and desired to have a new life, the ticket became a treasure, once again special. When all else failed, I still had my ticket, I would tell myself. I would check it every day, often many times a day. I would look at it more carefully, since it was of renewed importance. The more important the ticket became, the more I would look at all the times I had folded it, spilled liquor on it, took it to places you wouldn't take a treasure, and acted like it didn't exist.
Of course, it was still valid, right? I looked at it incessantly, and in the middle of the day, I would have nightmares that maybe I had lost it. I went to the experts, hoping I could get a new ticket. I was assurred there was nothing wrong with the one I had. But why did it feel like I had lost it? Why did I have to check over and over and over to make sure it was there, only to dread I had lost it an hour later.
Then I would dream while awake that I was tearing the ticket up. It felt so real that I had to look again for the ticket. I would call ticketmaster, but I was so panicked, I could not hear the response. This must have confirmed I had lost the ticket forever. This would continue, despite my desire to have this ticket. My world was shaken and my future seemed lost.
Gradually, amazingly, and with great patience and mercy, God taught me that what I needed was a tour guide, not a ticket. This tour guide's name is Jesus. I surrendered the tattered ticket to him, slowly, incompletely, and reluctantly. In His tender way, He has shown me how expensive the ticket was. He assurred me that it was paid in full, and that it was never really mine to lose. He is teaching me that the trip has already begun and has replaced a token with a lamp unto my feet and a light unto my path. He has given me many wonderful people with which to travel, but solemnly gestures to the empty seats around me.
Marc has much wisdom, continue to listen to him.
). But the Lord led me to keep going. It worked, and I thank Him for guiding me to it. 
