Bug Language

As I was getting ready this morning, I heard the familiar sound of a fly buzzing around, first at the light in the bathroom, and then to the window. I looked at the open door a few yards away and felt sad for the little bug for a second. This sounds weird, but I almost wished that I could speak bug language and show him the way. Even if I did speak bug language, he was so frantic that I doubt he would’ve listened anyway.

It made me stop for a second as I realized something. That little bug and I aren’t too different from each other. Just like the fly, I know what I want and can even see it. It seems so easy to be able to just get there – it’s right in front of my face. But for some reason, something is keeping me from it. There is a boundary that I can’t see and I don’t understand.

Am I flying at a lightbulb maybe? A fake version of what I think I want? Or maybe I am flying over and over again at the window, which shows accurately what I want but I’m just taking the wrong road to get there.

I’m sure the Lord is watching all of this with sadness in his heart similar to my own toward the bug. He knows the way to my happiness, but I’m too busy and frantic at my own dilemma to understand. The lucky thing is he does speak my language. I just need to stop freaking out long enough to ask him.

It’s interesting how you can tell a bug is near the end when it just starts flying into the window over and over, faster and faster, regardless of that fact that it is obviously not working. How many times do we do that? Start spazzing out and fly into the same window over and over, waiting for a hole to magically appear.

I need to take a step back and figure out my surroundings before I reach that point and let my own fear and frantic state kill me.

I think if I could speak bug language, we would’ve had a deep conversation.