I read an interesting article last week titled 3 Reasons Young Americans Are Giving up on God. If you’re short on time, the study cited claims that fundamentalist stances on issues like homosexuality, increasing visibility of atheist role models, and ongoing attacks by liberals are the 3 causes to blame for Americans under the age of 30 doubting the existence of God.

I’ve felt that way lately. Like I could give up on God. Like I wanted to question His very existence. Not because of overly zealous campaigns from the right or the left, or because of compelling arguments from non-believers. Then again, I’m also closer to 40 than 30, so I don’t suppose this specific study speaks for me in any event. What a sad truth!

But I have felt that way. Questioning, at the very least, God’s plan for me. Questioning whether there really is a plan for me, or if I’m destined to always be asking the question, “What’s next?” and never feeling like “what” is “now.”

And yet all along the way, no matter how much I question, doubt, object, deny, turn away from or otherwise dismiss God’s providence, He just keeps whittling away. Making a beautiful carving out of a block of wood.

If I look back over the last six months, the only truthful thing I can say is that God’s fingerprints are ALL over it. If I honestly reflect on the 100 semi-related events that have all occurred at just the right time to pave the way toward where God wants my journey to continue, I have no recourse other than to be amazed. But of course, I find a way not to be. It’s a specialty of mine.

I’ve been tied up in knots the last few weeks because I’ve decided to start my own company. I’m so fearful of failure. I’m so timid and weak and freaked out. Every little thing sends me spiraling. Questioning whether I can do this. My wife wants to pull her hair out. She believes in this direction, that I’m doing exactly what God wants. That everything will be just fine. Meanwhile, I’m manic. And God knows this.

Every time I hit the wall, and I want to retreat and find a safer way to exist, a way that isn’t what God has for me, He moves in me, around me, for me. Just this past week, when I was on the verge of not following through with my new business, a phone call came out of the blue, offering me my first paying customer. A customer that wanted to pay in advance for the work. And to pay enough to help me transition from my old job to this new venture. Or at the very least, make it a little easier and a little less scary.

I remain the owner of many doubts and fears. Insecurities. Lies. My faith is not nearly as strong as it needs to be. But I’ve decided I’m not going to give up on my journey, no matter how disconcerting it feels while I’m in the middle of it with no view from the top. And I’ve decided that unlike some of my younger brothers and sisters out there, I’m not giving up on my God.

Instead, I’m going to brace myself for what’s next and take it like a man, or at least like a mouse with protective headgear. Signing off now, and strapping on my helmet. There’s cheese to seize.