At The Edge

Life is, largely, unplanned.

Of course we plan things – financial goals, what we want to do for a living, how to get through the hours of a day – but much of the rest of life happens to us and we receive it and respond to it.

These surprises, these unexpected and unplanned for moments are what give life texture. These unannounced movements are also what build in us joy and character as well as cynicism and trauma. While we may think we have complete control, if we’re honest with ourselves we know that control is what we white-knuckle grip while we face the unexpected.

I think this is what I had in mind when I wrote on restlessness. The place where our plans shift, fail, or experience frustration and then we must say, “So what now?”

That “what now?” place could be called an edge.

Throughout my life I’ve had some wonderful experiences with edges. I’ve stood at the edge of Angel’s Landing in Utah’s Zion National Park. Just over my left shoulder on the bookcase there is a picture of that very moment. It was the edge of a precipice, yes, but at 20 years old it was also the edge of a stage of development.

A few short months after that I would graduate from college, get married, and then move halfway across the country to a state to which I’d never been (Illinois).

Graduation and marriage? Planned and expected.
Illinois? That was a surprising edge over which to peer.

I have had the chance to stand on the concrete sidewalk wrapped around the Sydney Opera House, staring out into the harbor and wondering which ferry would take me back to the part of the city where I was meeting a friend for dinner. I had never planned to go to Australia but there I was, with a day to myself to see all that the legendary city down under had to offer.

I also didn’t expect that I would get on the wrong ferry, get off at the wrong stop and then immediately board another ferry just to get back to the previous stop so I could take the correct ferry. That was a surprise, for the most part. It was an edge where I realized,

I probably shouldn’t be left alone in a major international city.

Edges are the places where we are pushed to either recognize that we are out of our depth and our strength is dismantled or they are places where we stare into an unknown with little understanding of how to go forward. And yes, sometimes edges are both.

Edges are when our child grows into teenage years and says things and does things that we can no longer control.  

When we consider a change in work or faith at an age where we think, “I should have this all figured out by now” – that’s a precipice, an edge.

The edge comes when we have to establish boundaries in relationships that will affect our calendar, network, and even sleeping habits for an undetermined amount of time in the future.

What I have come to learn, however, is that no matter how I grit my teeth against the edges I experience in life the edges are necessary. Why?

Because Spirit hovers in the void, just beyond the edge.

The edge often brings pain and there is nothing that moves us through the stages of our growth and development like pain.

When we come to the end of ourselves, we get to see ourselves plain in the stark light of anxiety, anguish, and anger.  

Only the edges have the ability to bring us face to face with our life and connection to the Divine, ourselves, and others.

We do not plan the edges because we would not welcome them if given the choice.

Yet that’s often what we need.

Pain often moves us to the edge so that we can embrace the unknown of what comes next. I believe the Divine meets us there, takes our hand, and says “It is not as deep or foreboding as it looks. It is, however, strange and unknown. Whenever you’re ready.”

And honestly, the edges are often terrible places. We’d rather plan our way around them, control what we can control, and have that life that we’ve been pitched by numerous others and by marketing campaigns aplenty.

But this is not the way. Before resurrection there is always crucifixion. Before birth there is always labor. Before spring there is some sort of winter.

It is the edge we do not want, but the edge that we need.

Where are you facing an “edge” in your world today?

What pain or uncertainty is pushing you close, letting your toes dangle over the precipice?

Know you are not alone. I for one am there, too.

But we will survive the edge. Somehow. And we will walk with the One who knows the precipice for what it really is…

…an invitation to what we will become.

Photo by Kelly Sikkema on Unsplash