Cliff Jumping
When I hear the phrase "My walk with God", I sometimes smile. I conjure up images of a lush green meadow, with a lovely path meandering through it, a tumbling stream running along the path, with maybe a swan floating on it. And there is God, and, whoever, hands laced together, walking. chatting. An iced tea in their hands.
Now, there are seasons of this love affair with my savior that look a little like this, moments where the sun is on my face, and I feel the glowing embers of our passionate love burst into full flame. Moments when I am standing on the summit of the highest mountain peak, my hands raised to the sky, thinking, ‘it does not get any better than this.’ It is in moments like these that I build a sort of alter in my mind, like Abraham did, to “Remember what the Lord has done”. These moments keep the smile on my face when my "walk" becomes a cliff jump.
We just arrived back in the Philippines on the 19th of February, after leaving nearly nine months ago in a hurried fluster, random clothes wadded and thrown into a suitcase, not knowing what lay ahead of us, or when we would return. June seems like an eternity ago, and in the blur of my hindsight, it seems that those were two different people who left this country than the ones who came back. In the days that followed, we lost my beautiful mom, and a chunk of our hearts went with her. And then we met our incredible daughter, and found a piece of our hearts we never knew we were missing. We came back a family of three, and, I might add, have been forever changed by this small detail. Also, I am a lot wimpier than I ever realized.
I will preface this by saying that B.C. (Before Child, of course), I was a woman who did not have an inkling of fear (or sense, some might say) in her person, regarding charging about to the ends of the earth, and would not hesitate at the thought of risking it all, for Jesus of course, by, say, preaching on a street-corner while radical extremists attempted to stone me.
Here we are, A.C.(After Child), and I am red-faced with shame to admit to you that swarms of mosquitos dive-bombing my baby have me nearing a hyperventilating state. A tossing boat on churning waters have me death-gripping her until she yammers. Dirty-fingered people grabbing at her as we pass them on the street have me gagging a little in my throat. Rats, roaches, ants... A local pastor was making small talk of when he almost lost his three young children to Dengue Fever, and I wanted to clamp my hands over my ears, and yell “Stop!”, fear sweeping over me like a cold sheet as I slathered her already greased-up body with more mosquito lotion.
God and I have been wrestling a bit, as I told Him that I trusted Him and all, but it would really be better if Julia stayed locked up in our house, under a net, until she is twelve. Then He asked me if I still think He is good….I paused. I realized then, and am realizing now, that I’ve been guarding myself from the One who knows and loves me best, who loves our daughter best. I asked Him desperately to keep my mom here, and His plans were different than mine. Now I look at this perfect, amazing creature who is completely ours, and also completely not, and I see the most precious thing I have ever known in my life. I love her with such fierce devotion that I must protect her from everything, and then I realize that I cannot.
I am looking into the face of the One who dreamed her up in the first place, and as I release my death-grip on her and surrender her again (for the 57th time today, give or take a few), I whisper, “Yes. I know that you are good.” He’s got us. We are where He has called us, and so, right smack dab in the center of His hand. I hear the triteness of it often, but the simplicity of it is this: when we walk in obedience, He is walking with us.
God has been showing me a picture of myself over and over these days…. I am standing on the edge of a cliff, and beneath me all I see is fog. God is standing there with me, inviting me to leap. “I’ll be with you”, He says, “I will catch you.” He is not pushing, He is not pulling, He is inviting. “Will you leap, trusting only my hand to hold you up?” “Yes”, I say, but still my heart is in my throat. And so I leap, and His hand appears, and He takes me deeper into His heart than I have ever been before.
Yes, these days my walk is a cliff jump, but the hand that holds us is stronger than I knew.