I learned—mostly the hard way—to look where I want to go when riding my bicycle.

This is especially true when riding trails. If you want to avoid a nasty rock, don’t look at it. If you want to hop over an exposed root, look where you want to land.  

I was watching a man teach his little girl to ride her bicycle in the parking lot at the old office building. She was protesting mightily, “But what if I hit the light pole?”  

“You aren’t going to hit the light pole, Sweetheart. You have an entire parking lot to ride in.” (It was indeed an expansive piece of asphalt.) 

“But I might,” she worried.  

“No, you won’t. Don’t look at the light pole,” Dad counseled her as he helped her get started.  

Bless her dear, little heart. She was like a moth drawn to a flame. She focused both eyes on the light post and rode directly toward it. She looked neither left nor right. Never has a rider ridden more straight and true. Dad’s coaching crescendo culminated with a scream, “Don’t look at the pole.”  

It was a spectacular crash. The post didn’t give an inch, but neither did she. Pink bike with white tires, black hair flowing from beneath a helmet emblazoned with Ariel, sunglasses, and green riding shorts tangled like spaghetti. She extracted herself from the milieu, crying, righted herself, and for good measure waylaid the post again with her tennis shoe. She then yelled at her father, who is in a dead run en route to the scene of the mishap, “I told you I was going to hit the pole.”  

Going to see if I could be of assistance—and if there was any blood—I heard Dad say as he put his arms around her, “I told you not to look at the light pole, Baby. Listen to me: You hit what you look at.”  

What are you looking at? Whatever you look at, you’ll hit it.  

I looked at Jesus’ words today, “Don’t let your heart be troubled. You believe in God; believe in me too. I’ll take care of you. I promise” (cf. Jn. 14:1, 20, & 27).

Here’s a link to a portion of the discussion Frank and I had with Tony Clark regarding the will of God.