The Chapter You Didn't Know You Were Writing

Tis the season of graduation parties. We have already been to a couple, and we have several more coming up in the next few days. It has had me thinking about graduations in general, and there is something about them that makes time slow down for just a moment.

Last night we drove by a packed Dallas Center Grimes High School with cars parked in the grass and a long line of people waiting to get in early. Tuesday night we will be down at the Knapp Center cheering on graduates from Johnston, including several students from our youth group who have become like family to us.

Every cap and gown. Every name called. Every parent in the crowd reminding themselves to breathe. It never gets old.

Graduation is one of those moments that holds two things at the same time. It is an ending and a beginning. A period and a comma. One door closing while another opens, even if you cannot quite see it yet.

I know that feeling well. Last year I graduated from Bible College. Years of early mornings, late nights, papers, exams, and more than a few moments of wondering if I was going to make it. And then suddenly, it was done. There was a deep exhale in my soul that I had not even realized I was holding. Relief. Gratitude. But what I did not see coming was how much I would miss that season. The people I came to care about deeply. The community that forms when you are all in the trenches together.

Here is something I have come to believe. The space between where you have been and where you are going is not wasted time. It is not a sign that something went wrong. It is actually one of the most sacred spaces a person can occupy. Learning to grow, to develop, and to find rest in that in-between season is more important than most of us realize.

Ecclesiastes 3:1 says, "There is an occasion for everything, and a time for every activity under heaven."

Every season has purpose. The season of studying has purpose. The season of not-yet-knowing has purpose. The season of waiting for the next door to open has purpose. God is not confused about your timeline, even when you are.

For the student who graduated this weekend with no idea what comes next, hear this. You do not have to have it figured out. You were not promised a full map. You were promised a faithful guide.

Proverbs 3:5-6 says it plainly. "Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and do not rely on your own understanding. In all your ways know him, and he will make your paths straight."

He will make your paths straight. Not your roommate. Not your resume. Not your plan. Him.

To the students: You have worked hard to get here. Do not minimize that. But the diploma in your hand is not the destination. It is a tool. It is a key. The question is not what door it unlocks for your comfort. The question is what door it unlocks for someone else's good.

The world does not need more people who are skilled and self-focused. It needs people who are equipped and surrendered.

You have more to offer than you realize. And yes, there will be fear. Fear is not a sign that you are in the wrong place. Fear is often a sign that you are standing at the edge of something that actually matters. Do not let it stop you. Step forward anyway. I say that as someone standing in a similar season, taking a similar leap of faith. You are not alone in the uncertainty.

To the parents: You did not just raise a graduate. You raised a person. A whole person with a story that is still being written, and your fingerprints are on every page of it. There may be a grief in your heart today sitting right alongside the pride, and that is okay. You are allowed to feel both. But hear this. The God who was faithful enough to bring your child this far has not run out of faithfulness. He is just as present in the next chapter as He was in this one. You can release them into His hands because His hands have never let go.

To everyone else: Graduation season has a way of reminding all of us that life is made up of chapters. Maybe you are in the middle of one right now. Maybe you are between chapters and the uncertainty feels unbearable. Maybe you graduated years ago and have nearly forgotten the feeling of standing at the edge of something new.

Let this season be a reminder. It is never too late to surrender a new chapter to God. It is never too late to say, "I do not know exactly where this is going, but I trust the One who does."

Isaiah 43:19 says, "Look, I am about to do something new; even now it is coming. Do you not see it? Indeed, I will make a way in the wilderness, rivers in the desert."

New things. Wilderness paths. Rivers in dry places. That is what He does.

The next chapter is already being written. Maybe you are waiting for clarity before you move. Waiting for the right moment, the right opportunity, the right door. Sometimes obedience comes before clarity. Sometimes you take the next small step with what you have and trust that the rest will come into focus as you go. Not all at once. Not on your schedule. But faithfully, steadily, in His time.

To every graduate this season. To every parent releasing their child into the world. To everyone standing between chapters wondering what comes next.

The story is not over.

In fact, the best part might be just ahead.