I don’t know where I’m going

Most of us have heard the line: Abraham went out, not knowing where he was going. I’ve often thought of this as Abraham packing up his tents, closing his eyes, and saying something like, Okay, Lord, direct my steps, and then wandering off with his hands stretched out before him, so he wouldn’t smack his nose into a tree. And yes, that’s a quite exaggerated version of how I’ve thought of it, but I think you get the gist of what I’m saying.

If we take a look at the surrounding story, however, the emphasis may change. We read, to begin with, that Abram’s father packed up and headed to Canaan. Hmm. He, too, was going to a place he didn’t know, but he never arrived. He came to Haran, which shared the name of his dead son—perhaps because he named the place after him—and he settled there. That has been one of my favorite Bible phrases, since the first time I saw it: … and he settled in Haran. Abram’s father is not considered an anything of faith—much less a hero—because he settled in Haran.

After the Lord spoke to Abram, however, he packed his bags, headed in the direction of Canaan, and arrived there. That indicates that he had some idea of his direction; he was going to Canaan. In modern terms, when you’re visiting friends in an unfamiliar place, you may suggest that they, not you, drive to some particular restaurant, because you "don’t know where you’re going." I’m getting the idea that such was the case with Abram. I suspect he knew that Canaan was his destination. He may have even known some of the route he needed to take. What he didn’t know, however, was Canaan.

I’m thinking this way partly because the Lord whispered in my ear, again, through the words He spoke to Abram thousands of years ago. I had gone through a couple of days of being sure I didn’t even want to be married, because it probably would be worse than being single. The simple, unpalatable truth is that I have yet to see, hear, or read anything about marriage that satisfies me—though I’ll admit that what I’ve personally observed of marriage, and my own various relationships with persons of the male persuasion, are the greatest influencing factors. I’m very much inclined to think that if that is the best marriage can be, why bother?z.

Now the Lord says, leave all that, and go to a place I will show you (and, incidentally, it’ll be good). I know that I’m headed in the direction of a great marriage. But I don’t know the place I’m going to. Not only have I not experienced it, I haven’t seen it, read about it, or heard about it. I have only God’s word for it that the place even exists.

So do I settle in Haran—the known quantity—or do I leave, not knowing where I am going?

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