Last weekend I had spiritual cabin fever. The kind where you pray and it feels as if your prayers hit the ceiling and whack you right back in the head. I was restless and frustrated and just about sick of myself.
Since the outdoors have a much higher ceiling, it was demanded suggested that I go out for a prayer walk. Luckily, it was a beautiful sunny day – one of the first hope-for-spring kind. I attempted to dress appropriately and set off down the road and into the park. About a quarter mile away I reach the fork in the road. Usually I know which way I will choose because I go the opposite of the last time, but this day I had to make a decision. A few days earlier I had taken the path to the left. I knew it was cleared and would have few people on it. The path to the right would be much more populated, especially on this warm sunny day, which could be a little strange as I was going to pray out loud. I decided to head right anyway. Down under the freeway and I reach a small ice rink. The entire path under the bridge is a sheet of ice, but I press on…
I emerge on the other side to discover the path still snow covered, packed down and not the best for walking. I forgot they use the path for cross-country skiing in the winter! Should have thought about it sooner and gone and rented skis. At a much more cautious pace, since there are greater things at stake, I press on…
Mostly I am staring at my feet and the path as I walk. Trying not to break my ankle. The bright light is reflecting off the white snow and ice and I think to myself… there must be a lesson in this. It comes to me in little bites throughout the afternoon.
Life is like that path. Sometimes the season provides a clear path for running with few obstacles. But in other seasons, we must slow down and be careful of our step. The way can be dangerous and slippery. And I press on…
God may put those obstacles in our way to get us to slow down. Sometimes I am so busy trying to “get” to the next thing, or the end of the journey that I miss out on what I could have had if I had staying in that place for a bit. I may hear God’s voice speaking to me, but I miss the end because I’m already down the road before He’s done. It may be un-American or un-human to slow down, but it isn’t un-godly. How much have I missed out on? I can just hear God saying, “We’ll have to try that one again some other time.”
I stop and wait…
It takes trust to face your fears even when logically you are aware there is nothing to fear. And sometimes the best you can do your first time out is take a few steps out onto the frozen pond before turning back. But next time, you might just walk across the whole lake – frozen or not.
I want to be like snow. Pure and white. Transparent. Solid and yet able to melt at a touch, turned into water and poured out to help aid life and growth. It’s a prayer that sounds pretty, but the fulfillment of will cause much stretching, pruning, pounding, and other uncomfortable things. I fully admit I tend to be a little (or more) stubborn at times. I begin to press in…
Sometimes after just a little while with Daddy you can feel like leaping, spinning in circles or sliding across a frozen mirror, pressing the darkness out.
Two and half hours later, sun-kissed, peaceful and a little weary I returned home. Grateful that God would take such time and care to spend the afternoon walking with me through his creation. Blessed time spent in the betweens.
melting...
1 comment:
What a powerful recap of that day... I feel like I'm seeing it through your eyes again, but from a fresh perspective.
So much truth and wisdom... yes, it sounds pretty, and you're absolutely right, it is very, very difficult, but there is no other choice. We can trust, knowing the results will be worth it.
Freefall, melt, leap... live.
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