How Can You Tell?

I'm confronted yet again by a dilemma that has cropped up with increasing regularity in the last year or two in my life: how does one tell the difference between a worthy risk and a foolhardy chance?

I've been trying to grapple with the biblical concept of trusting God—not on the intellectual level (at which I trust Him pretty much entirely, and any lack of trust on that end is entirely my own failure to keep Him in mind as I should), but on the level of action.

Do I trust God to do what He says He will? Yes, indeed. If God appeared in a cloud of light or spoke to me in a voice from the heavens and told me to hop to it, by golly I'd hop. And I'm striving to be more sensitive to the still, small voice that is the far more common method of His communication.

I also believe that He endows us with our desires and dreams that He might use them to His glory. (I know much of this is rehashing pretty common ideas and statements—forgive me. This is as much about me working through these ideas for myself as anything else.)I believe we have to be discerning as to which of our desires are worldly and self-serving, and those that are of His will. I attempt to offer up at least daily all my hopes, dreams, and goals, putting them figuratively on the altar and praying that He will test them in the holy fire, burning away the dross and refining that which is worthy into pure and honorable matter.

So then comes along some chance or idea, and my difficulty arises in trying to decide how to act on the moment. Case in point: for the last couple of weeks, I've been in some turmoil about feeling totally directionless, filled with giant dreams that seem so distant and dim that I can't even begin to see how to follow them. I've discussed the idea with Slater and know that my way clear is, as always, to keep my eyes on Him and not some end I hope to achieve. But that often leaves a question of how to act. Today, again, I prayed that He would show me some sign of where we were heading, not so much (I hope) because I don't believe He can bring great things about, but because without at least the rudiments of some path to follow, I end up just dithering, doing nothing at all (and that certainly feels like the wrong thing).

In my e-mail inbox this morning was an invitation to voiceover event with Pat Fraley (with whom I've worked several times before) about audio book work; during the course of the weekend, the attendees will work with several professionals from the industry and actually come out with an audio book demo tape. (My current one is pretty lackluster, produced on my own.)

I haven't thought about doing real audio work for some time—since the collapse of VoiceTrax (and my extra teaching gig over at Community Christian College), I've auditioned a couple of times and worked on that demo, all to no avail.

So the question rises: is this message landing in my inbox an answer to these prayers? Certainly, audio book work would help supplement any other kind of work I do (most notably, my writing); I enjoy the heck out of it and would love to do it as my "day job"; and Pat, at least, has seemed to suggest that it is something I could do well. But the workshop is quite expensive ($1400 for two days, which is actually pretty reasonable for the industry), and I've already poured several thousand dollars of our money into this thing that has gone nowhere. (Granted, I think the experience was valuable and helped me see a lot of things I hadn't before, but it certainly has not resulted in the work for which I was hoping.) Is the message just a nudge, to remind me of when I was more hopeful? Was it simply a case of unconnected timing? (I hesitate to use the words "coincidence" or "accident," because I don't believe there really are such things, but certainly it may be unconnected to any of these musings.) Was is just a door to get me to think about this issue once more? A temptation to spend a wad of money on a new fad that will, like its predecessors, fade away in a month or two?

If it didn't cost time or money, then I'd say, "Sure. Why not?" But it costs both. If it were just me, I'd say the same. But it's not—in addition to whatever "calling" I have, I also have a responsibility to my family, and blowing that kind of money on a pursuit essentially to make myself happy sounds from the outside like an enormous indulgence. Again, if I felt a clear, high command to do this, then the choice would be easy. Without such a call, I can't tell if this is an invitation or a temptation, a calling out or a drawing away, a leap of faith or a fall into selfishness.

Sheesh. Thinking is hard.