I pictured myself in an underground tunnel, you know, something like where the teenage mutant ninja turtles would live. The water is murky, up to my knees. It is pitch dark, and I cannot see what lies beneath the water, nor what is in front of me. My left palm presses against the wall- at least I have something to hold on to. There might be crocodiles swimming around, and I'm scared.

God is on my right, his hand reaching out to mine. He says He knows the way and will lead, and promises I will be safe. But one thing- its not going to be easy, treading through the tunnel. I might fall, but He will catch me. I might be tired along the way, but He promises to stop for me to rest. I might feel frustrated and angry halfway, but He will hold my hand yet tighter and patiently hear me whine.

I don't like the sound of it, and start telling Him, no Lord, I'm scared. There are crocodiles waiting to eat me up! I don't want to go. I don't even want to move.
He gently tells me, yes, there are crocodiles. But if you take my hand and walk with me, I promise not to let them harm you.


In a way I am scared of the long ardous journey ahead, the trials that I will have to go through over and over again. But His love is inseparable from His holiness, and His truth. He loves me, yes, and that is precisely why he is also moulding me into his likeness, to the person that He made me to be. Will I follow?



So I tell him, finally, yes Lord. I will follow. I can't see what's ahead, but you can, right? I'm scared, but I know I don't have to be because there is nothing to be afraid of with you next to me. I very slowly reach out my hand to his, outstretched for so long now. He takes it and grips it tightly, and my other hand lets go of the wall.
I'm ready, Lord. He smiles at me and we start to walk.
"There will be toilet breaks, won't there?"
"Of course, my child."