Stepping Into the Unknown

We harvested our beehives recently and left the honey extractor and the last of the honey slowly filtering in the garage. A few hours later, to my husband’s dismay, he discovered the garage door had been left open, and—you guessed it—many bees had found our cache and were feasting and humming happily inside. We shut the door, turned out the lights, and the bees began to cluster around the window, eager to escape. Accommodatingly, I cracked the screen so the bees could walk or fly to freedom.

As I watched the bees, I was intrigued by their behavior. Because of the construction of the window, to reach the screen, they had to walk from the fully lighted glassy area, across a darkened window frame to get to the screen opening. This was an unfamiliar situation; most bees were unwilling to cross the few inches of unlit surface. By accident or by my coercion, most finally escaped, but some flew back into the room or simply refused to leave the familiar daylit glass. I swept up their shriveled bodies the next day. Though I had tried to help them escape, a few were willing to die rather than step into the unknown.

I get it. Doing something unfamiliar can be uncomfortable or even scary. Our self-protection instincts kick in and we shy away. Sometimes this is a helpful reflex, but it can get in the way when God whispers to me to reach out to a new member of my congregation (“They look different from me, maybe they won’t like me!”), or I get a sense that I need to move in an untried direction in my life, (“volunteer in the Pioneer Home? I don’t know how to do that!”). Instinctively we avoid, ignore, or dither within our (now uncomfortable) comfort zone.

The writers of The Anatomy of Peace note that when we follow these quiet nudges, we are usually happy that we did so—we respect our inner voice and we move forward without self-reproach. However, when we ignore the prodding, we remember our failure and wish we had acted differently. I have had too many of these kinds of regrets in my life. When I don’t step out of my sunny area and move across an unknown path, like my bees, I shrivel.

Life is full of uncertainty. Sometimes we are ejected from our security and

are thrown abruptly into illness, accidents, employment instability, or financial disasters. Forced to move, we can feel adrift and unsure how to act. This is the time to step into the darkness with faith, relying on true principles, confident that God will keep His promises. “Do what is right, let the consequence follow,” reminds the old hymn.

My son-in-law related a story about his parents during the 1981-1983 famine in Ghana (Africa). Due to extensive fires, and population shifts, there were widespread food shortages, inflation, street riots, starvation, and death across the country. People struggled for months to find food.

His parents took what money they had and made a large food purchase to feed their family of four—which was never delivered. As the weeks passed, their employment became unstable and their supplies became dangerously low. Their baby girl wouldn’t eat the available food and had developed a worsening cough. They worried about the future.

One hungry day a beggar knocked at their door, pleading for food. Being firm Christians, they gave him a bowl of rice and some sugar, leaving very little for themselves. Shortly thereafter, once again, someone knocked at their door. At this point, they asked each other, should they open the door? Perhaps they should ignore the knocking and let someone else feed the hungry. Should they let their children starve while someone else ate? And when would more food be available? Yet the knocking persisted.

Finally, following their long-practiced principles, they opened the door to the stranger. He smiled at them broadly. “I’m so glad you are home!” said the man. “I have been knocking on doors all over the neighborhood, but no one will answer. I have a load of rice and sugar to share with people. Would you like some?” The very items they had shared were restored in abundance.

Not long after this delivery came yet another knock, this time a family friend who provided medicine for the baby, possibly saving her life. With this assistance, his little family was sustained until food became more available.

“So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.” (Isaiah 41:10 NIV) He promises to hold our hands as we walk into the shadows of our lives, guiding us to more light and more life. Certainly He has for me.

Kristin Fry is savoring the sweetness of fading summer and is grateful for autumn abundance. Kristin is a joyful member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.