"I don't know what to do."

I recently perused the book "Eat, Pray, Love" and Liz Gilbert's straight-talk in the memoir was moving. I am a firm believer that anyone who is honest and sincere in their search for God deserves our attention. And Liz represents thousands of people seeking God and, instead, finding "god" or "Buddha" or "Allah" or "themselves".

A portion of the beginning of her story really affected me. She writes about being in the middle of a difficult situation and she finds herself on the bathroom floor, sobbing, when she decides to pray. "God, I don't know what to do. Tell me what to do. I'll do it. Please. Just tell me what to do..." and then, she listens.

She really didn't know to Whom she was speaking. But her rock-bottom transparency and honesty are a hallmark of real searching. And she heard an answer; though I believe she attributed it to the wrong person. But discrepancies aside, this part of her story felt far too familiar for me to ignore.

As a believer in Christ, I find myself quite often in a puddle of my own tears saying, "God, I don't know what to do. Please. Tell me what to do. Please, tell me what to do." And He is faithful to lead me. Even if I simply walk forward quietly and blindly, just following His whisper.

The key is, I must come to Him and admit that I don't know what to do. When I've pressed on every door. Tried to pry open every window. Pounded on every wall for a soft spot that I could possibly break through. And...nothing. I glance around the room half a dozen more times. "Perhaps the solution is right in front of me and I'm missing it." But, nothing. So finally, my hands drop to my side and I look up..."I don't know what to do..."

When I was in elementary school, a teacher sent a note home with me for my parents. This was never to tell them you were bright or exceptional or something else favorable. And I was nervous. I had never brought one of these home before! I racked my brain; what had I done?! Did I talk too much? Not work quickly enough? Didn't pay attention to some rule?

I got home and handed the note to my mom. "What's it say mom? What did I do?" "Well, Amanda. It says, "Amanda needs to learn to ask for help when she finds a problem she can't solve. She refuses to ask for help"."

I'm not going to say that note changed my life. I'll still carry a dozen Wal Mart bags up to my apartment by myself. I'll still take care of myself when I'm sick. I'll still find my own solutions before I consult anyone. Before I consult...Anyone.

I remember a lady showing up at my Gramma's door a few days after she'd gone to be with Jesus. She talked about having come to Gramma's house because she, "didn't know what to do. I didn't know where to go. My mom said, 'Just go see Ora Mae,' and so I came to see Ora Mae." She had knocked on the door with confidence that this lady could do something about her situation. Maybe she pictured Mrs. Clause. Or some fairy godmother doling out the goods. Or maybe just a sympathetic and kind woman who would find some way to help her. Whatever the case, she felt like an answer was behind the door.

Bottom line? This woman had more faith that a total stranger could help her than I sometimes have that God can help me. She got desperate and, "being a burden" or "admitting helplessness" weren't obstacles for her any longer.

That's how I knock on the door today. Today, I just sit and whisper, "Jesus, I don't know what to do", and wait...