Where do you think you are going in those shoes?

Twenty- one years ago this week, I met the boy who would become my husband. On a blind date. While wearing tennis shoes.

Yeah. I was a real fashionista. And as my sweet husband relishes in reminding me, it was not a tennis shoe worthy kind of date. It involved dinner. At a restaurant. Most people there were not wearing tennis shoes.

Now, in my defense, it was the 90’s—grunge was in.  I was a student then at a big university where the uniform of the day was sorority shirts, jeans and tennis shoes. He went to a smaller school where the girls wore actual outfits to class. I try to remind him about a lovely sweater I’m sure I wore. But, this earns me no points because in his mind my Seinfield-esque sweater did not make up for the fact that I was wearing tennis shoes. On a date.

He recounts this story (his version anyway) as life’s current chaos dances around us. And we laugh at the memory of that long ago awkward evening.  As I listen to him talk, twisting my hair—with its faint streaks of gray—out of my face, I begin to feel my 21-year-old self creeping into my thoughts; all young and overwhelmed by life’s expectations. And suddenly I look around my place; dinner cooking, milk spilling, boys tussling and it becomes a bit of a marvel to behold. God really unfolded all of this from that tennis shoe-clad mess of a first date?

Perhaps I marvel because I know where my heart was on that day so many years ago. I know that, really, me wearing tennis shoes on that date had more to do with my expectations than with my lack of fashion sense. I had not wanted to go.

Not that his picture wasn’t cute. It was.  I was just sure that nothing would come of it. Nothing. So I had not even bothered to change my shoes. I went on that date simply to please my friend. My friend who had sat crossed-legged amidst the books and papers on my sorority house bed and promised that this boy was perfect for me, absolutely perfect. She had begged and pleaded and I had made a thousand excuses, because honestly—why in the world would I want to leave the perfectly amazing city of Athens, Georgia, and drive into downtown Atlanta to meet a boy from that school in the middle of the city? She was persistent, though, my sweet friend. So I went. But I wore my tennis shoes. 

You see, I was just sure that no true Georgia girl meets her soulmate at a frat house on the campus of Georgia Tech.

And back then, life was all about what I expected to happen.  I had ways  I was sure that God was going to work in my life. I had timelines and plans—and this little side trip to Atlanta was an interruption. One that I was certain had no meaning.

You see, a blind date is knowingly walking into the unknown, and why would I want to do that?  No good was going to come from it.

Funny, how little I knew about the good that God can bring to any situation. How little I trusted as I laced on my old tennis shoes and drove the 60 miles to meet a boy I had never seen. And honestly, despite all these 21 years of seeing God work, not much has changed about the way I step into unknown situations.

I still walk into the places God sends me each day with my old tennis shoes on, not expecting that he will bring anything from it.  I am always so sure that I have the ending all figured out. The kid will keep arguing with me and pushing his limits; his heart will never soften. The stressful situation with a friend will never get any better; I just need to walk away. I will never be able to make that big decision; I will always choose incorrectly. As if God doesn’t actually intend to use any of this real stuff to get my attention.

I pray. I say the right words. I try to lay these challenging parts of life before my Creator, but I don’t let go all the way. I give him a way out. I have back up plans, ways that I will handle it all. Because I don’t fully trust that He will show up. So I put tennis shoes on my expectations of God and walk them into a blind date, certain that I already know how it’ll all end.

And I am still laughing at the memory of that first date when I read this verse, the one in the gospel of Mark that says we are called to pray and to believe that he will answer our prayers. Believe. As in, get dressed up for the date like it is going to matter. Step into the places life takes us with a belief that God is stepping into those places with us. Believe that regardless of our circumstances, he will bring good to our places simply with his presence. It isn’t that God cares about what kind of shoes we’re wearing. It’s our hearts that concern him. And the way we forget.

See, I can read them all. These Bible verses that promise that God has plans for me. That he loves me. That he is always with me and longs to draw near to me. The ones that say if I will turn toward him he will lead me.  And then I can wake up the next day overwhelmed by all the work. I can spend the day plotting my strategy to improve and to fix what isn’t working. All the while forgetting what I read. Forgetting that I am called to pray, to trust and sometimes to just do the next thing, believing that God’s got this.

But what if he doesn’t?

“It is the Lord your God you must follow and him you must revere … obey him; serve him and hold fast to him” (Deuteronomy 13:4) Yes. That is what I need to remember when I am tempted to race ahead and stake my claim on my own predictions of how things will turn out. He is the Lord our God, the one I must follow and hold onto. Not my own predictions.

Because, clearly, I am not all that good at predicting how life is going to turn out.

Now the dishes are washed and the boys are chasing each other around the house. I stand in the middle of the noise and lean in close to this man. This Georgia Tech boy who holds my heart, but who can’t stop laughing at the memory of being introduced to this know-it-all me sorority girl in her jeans and tennis shoes.

And I wonder.

If I had known that this was ahead … if I had known that life would go this way … if I had known what God had planned … would I have walked into that date like it was just another day?

But the truth is we can’t know what’s ahead. We can’t see what God will use or how he will show up. But we can trust that he will. We can stop limiting our expectations of him. Stop our secret prediction-making.

Because what about right now? What about the places life will take us today?

Are we walking into them expecting God to bring good out of them, regardless of how the circumstances look to our earthly eyes? Do we see holy ground? Places where God is at work in every interruption, every conversation, every mess? Or are we just putting on tennis shoes and assuming we know how this blind date is going to go?

Twenty-one-year-old tennis-shoe wearing me never could have predicted this, I think. This kitchen full of life and boys. I grin up at my blind date, and realize that now I am standing next to him, here, 21 whole years later, with no shoes on at all.

But this is it, I think. This is holy ground; sticky kitchen floor holy ground, right under my bare feet. God walking in the real places of my life—in ways I never expected him to.

Trust in the Lord your God with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge him and he will make straight your paths. — Proverbs 3:5-6