The Waiting Room

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The air is dry and stale and hangs still in the space, I look around the room I have become all to familiar with; Its cold blank walls stare back at me, and remind me of how long I've been in here. On the other side of the room is the door I wait to enter.

A few scattered chairs lay around, acting as remnants of the people who have come and gone into the next room. I had been under the impression that I was here first, and had my name on the list before the several individuals who have somehow come and gone in before me... But for one reason or another, here I sit, still.

I have been dreaming of what's on the other side of that door for years now, and now I sit so close and yet so far. I am kept from my dreams only by what seems to be a thin door, needing only permission from those in charge to pass through.

I pick up an old magazine and mindlessly flip through it's torn pages, while thinking of the people I have witnessed pass through the door and into the room I so desperately want to be in. I wonder if it's something about them specifically that got them in. Maybe it was their beauty, skill or personality that ushered them into the coveted room. I turn the magazine page to a perfume ad where a very fit couple -making a striking and intimate pose- stare at me from the thin paper. I begin to wonder if it's me, If instead of some people being let it in because of who they are, perhaps I am being kept out because of who I am. Maybe my resume is to small or wasn't formatted correctly, or perhaps they found out about that thing that happened last year I hoped no one ever would, or maybe they inexplicably realized I'm not as good at math as I told them I was. Or maybe they somehow saw who I really am.

Whatever it is, I think it's time to give up. I toss the magazine back onto the table beside me and slowly stand up. I look one more time at the door that now seems so impossible to pass. I put my hands in my pockets and with a final deep breath, turn and begin to walk out.

Then suddenly "Nathan"

Startled, I swing back around, and there next to the door -I had so long waited to open- is another door... It's smaller than the other one and the finish on it looks worn, but there it stands none the less. I don't know how I hadn't noticed it before, perhaps I had been so focused on the entrance I thought I was supposed to go through I hadn't noticed the one right next to it. The new door was cracked open, presumably where the voice came from. I paused shortly, then answered.

"Yes?"

"Where are you going?"

"I uh... I have just been..."

"Come on in"

I hesitate briefly, looking back at the door I had been so sure I was supposed to go through, then look back at the open door beside it.

Why Aren't You Living The Story You Were Made To Tell

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God has not placed dreams, passions and gifts on your heart to be ignored. He has placed them on your heart to be realized.

God has a story to tell, God has a story for YOU to tell! You need only let Him.

But the unfortunate thing is, so many will live and die never having known the sweet, fulfilling, beautiful-taste, of living the destiny God has for them. 

How can this be? How can God have individually designed each of us with loves, passions and gifts for so many to miss the story they were designed to tell.

Could it be because all to often we say things like...

"If I had enough money, I would..."

"It would take a LOT of work and dedication, and I just don't know it I am ready to commit..."

"I'm scared"

"What if I fail?"

"What would other people think"

"That's not what normal people do"

Whether you have said these things out loud, or heard them whispered in the back of your mind. You must silence the noise and hear only the voice of God ready to narrate the story he has created you to tell. But to hear his voice, you must listen.