I went dog sledding yesterday and while seated in the comfort of the sled enjoying the ride, I thought of the saying “unless you’re the lead dog, the view never changes.” I thought of the lead dog up ahead, forging his own path, thinking he is in control of the sled and the path we were taking. But this was a guided tour, on a well marked trail.
What if we went off that path, what would the lead dog do? He would look to the driver for instruction. That lead dog may not be able to see the driver, but he has the confidence of knowing he is there, to guide him back to the path should he stray.
Much like in my own life, for years I could see my path, the direction I was going so I didn’t think much about the driver. It wasn’t until recently that I lost my way, suddenly faced with an open landscape, with so many paths to take, so many opportunities. With so many options, I find I need guidance because surely there must be a right path.
Or is there? Will many paths lead me to the same destination and all I have to do is decide what’s best for me? Then how do I make that decision? Do I follow my mind or my heart? My mind tells me to do what’s best for me, to live in the moment, have fun, if it feels good, do it. My heart tells me to be patient, to listen to that small, still voice, it says there’s more to life than what you see. Trust your driver…trust God.
Of course there is a third option. To remain comfortably seated in the sled. Here there was no danger, no risk, and definitely no decision making. In the sled, there was no need to worry about the path ahead because whether the lead dog or the driver was in control didn’t matter at all. We were moving forward, and I was enjoying the ride. But in that comfortable place, the view definitely never changes.