I'll have what He's having.
So life with God is like going on a date.
I tell the waiter "I'll have what he's having." I know that I always like what he gets. I trust him. But on the other hand, I'd kinda like to know what we're eating. Every time the waiter comes out with a plate of food, I wonder if its mine. If it looks good, I hope its mine. Then the waiter delivers it to another table and I think, "Well, hopefully what I ordered is better, but I sure would've enjoyed that." I begin to wonder about what we've ordered. Am I gonna like it? Maybe I won't. Maybe he ordered shrimp, and I'm really not a very big fan of shrimp. I mean, of course, I doubt he'd order shrimp... but maybe he likes shrimp and I didn't know. Then I remember how well he knows me and how much I trust him and I think, "I'm sure I'll like what I get." But then the waiter brings out lasagna to another table, and I think, "Good grief, could I please just eat something now? Why couldn't I have just had the lasagna? I love lasagna. I am so sick of waiting on my meal! And I don't even know if I'm gonna like it!"
But in the past, he's always ordered me things so much fancier than a boring old lasagna. He's always ordered food I like. Food I like more than I think I will. Like lobster. But for some reason I keep worrying that the waiter's gonna bring out escargots and there Jesus will be with a big smile on his face, and I'll have to eat it because I already agreed to have what he ordered. I didn't have to agree to have what he had, but I did.
And the whole time I'm waiting, I wish he'd tell me what we ordered. But he doesn't. He wants to keep it a surprise. He knows I'll love it, it won't give me food poisoning, and it won't be bad for me. He knows I'll be so surprised and happy when the waiter comes to our table with a bottle of the best wine and the fanciest cuisine in the restaraunt. But I don't know.