Last week I mentioned the impact that the music of Mumford & Sons has had in my life. One of the songs off their latest album has spoken powerfully to me over the last few weeks. Here’s the band performing Hopeless Wanderer at a concert in 2011:
So when your hope’s on fire
But you know your desire
Don’t hold a glass over the flame
Don’t let your heart grow cold
I will call you by name
I will share your road
– Mumford & Sons, Hopeless Wanderer
It feels like I’m surrounded by people in transition: friends changing careers, selling their homes, moving their families, graduating from college soon and looking for their next step. Even my church has lost a long-term staff member recently.
And it stinks because I’m a fixer. I want to jump into these situations and offer solutions. I wish I could make houses sell and jobs available. I want to make frustrations disappear and paths straight. But those things are way beyond my reach.
It seems like all I have to offer is the ability to walk alongside the people I love. And I’m not sure why that’s not enough for me.
For the most part, my experience with God has not been one where he constantly breaks in to fix things in my life. I have often prayed for miraculous solutions, but rarely seen them come to pass.
No, my life has been more like the song. When I have doubts or fears or frustrations or problems – when my hope has been on fire – God has rarely come sweeping in like a superhero to save the day. Instead, he has simply been with me.
Just like he sat talking with the Samaritan woman by the well. Like he stood beside the woman caught in adultery. And how he gently made himself known to his companions on the road to Emmaus.
God rarely jumps in to fix, but always walks the difficult roads with me and helps me understand how those experiences mold and shape me more into his image.
Because he knows my name and wants to share my road. Why should I expect anything more of myself?
So even though I long for a brain to find the most elusive solutions or hands that can repair the broken, those things aren’t necessary.
Because I have been given a shoulder to cry on, ears to listen, arms to hold and feet that can walk alongside. I can laugh and cry and pray and celebrate and lament.
I can share the road. And that’s enough.
Have you been blessed with someone who walks with you like this? What kind of impact have they made in your life?