The Wrong Race

A quick analogy to describe how, emotionally, I'm feeling, since I don't want to say it any other way:
You're running a race- a marathon, perhaps. It's a long one. It's tiring, and confusing, and you get injured several times- a sprain here, a fall there. The runner's high helps, and sometimes you feel like you're flying because it feels so easy and so good. You keep going because you're sure that a wonderful prize is awaiting you, a prize that you think is perfect for you and will make you happy for possibly the rest of your life. You've never run this race before, you've never run for this kind of prize. You want it, you ache for it.
You run and run and run and run, keeping your eyes forward, ignoring the pain, offering it up, praying for strength, thanking God for the race and begging for the prize. Then you can see the finish line vaguely in the distance- at least, you think that's the end...you're not quite sure. Someone on the sideline yells that the prize has been moved to a different race. You trip and fall, but get back up, determined to keep going because, well, it has to be there, right? Your stomach suddenly feels the ribbon as you stumble through the finish line that seemed to come out of nowhere. And what do you see?
Nothing.
The prize is not there. It's put away somewhere, waiting for a different runner.
You ran the wrong race. The prize never was for you in the first place.
You gasp, placing your hands on your head as you try to regain your breath. You are exhausted. Your body aches. You collapse and put your head in your hands, in utter disbelief. You ran the wrong race? You were certain that prize was for you.
You look up to Heaven, eyes begging "Why?..."
You don't want to run any more. You want to hide and sleep.
But God tells you not to get discouraged. You still completed the race and He is proud of you- it was good for you to run it. Now you're stronger. Now it's time for you to find the right path to the right course. And when you find it and start to run, the prize will be more amazing than you could ever imagine. You stand up, still tired, still aching. You know it will take time to recover, and that's okay. You tell God you don't want to do what you think is good for you, but what He wants for you. Step by step, with prayers ever on your lips, you move forward, guided by the One who knows which path is best. You have hope, and "Hope does not disappoint" (Rom. 5:5).
AMDG BVMH