Wednesday, April 4, 2012

a challenge

up at the mt. hermon writers conference in northern CA, i spent every morning i was there with an incredible guide through the hills and valleys of non-fiction writing. she led us; she grabbed our hand and pulled us up when we needed it; she let us rest when it was necessary, everything grounded in God's perfect and applicable Word.

monday morning she gave us a challenge: go out in to nature and take notes on what you see. well, the minute i stepped outside, i felt a metaphor coming on. the following is what happened:

a challenge. go out into nature and observe your surroundings. i step out in to the cold and it shocks me like a kiss from a stranger. sweet but from a stranger, yes. i look around me. i have not yet explored these places. i have only viewed the outside from indoors. as i have sat in these workshops, the out of doors has beckoned to me but the quest for knowledge and direction has not led me out there, but rather to be a part of the learning conglomerate inside rooms.

there is a view from my sleeping quarters. beautiful trees standing tall. in the wind the young ones sway, but the older trees with generations of rings and thick bark stand tall, unmoved. water flows, still at points and white water at others. and the sound -- the white noise of water rushing serves as the constant background to the music of the wind sweeping through the redwood tops creating sweet melody and the occasional welcome interruption of a bird calling to its partner.

below and to the side, i notice a worn wooden cross. the center of something. i see seats. when will i go there? i want to see that place. i want to BE in that place.

so the challenge comes.

i know where i am going.

to the foot of that cross.

so i step out to greet the stranger. i walk pathways of familiarity -- downhill is slight. flat and more even pathways through the center of camp. then the downhill slope. my toes are pressed to the end of my shoes. it's uncomfortable. i feel the need to steady myself not wanting to run for fear i fall down the hill.

then a resting place. even ground, only to go up and then down again, my toes once again being cramped. this is all too familiar.

i get to the arena and i am unsettled. i notice someone else is there too. this place is supposed to be just for me.

not wanting to disturb, i sneak in at the back, top row. will i be brave enough to get up, walk down and sit at the foot of the cross as i had hoped? time is escaping me. i need to take action -- i am afraid.

one foot in front of the other.

eyes on Jesus. [these words are familiar....]

surrender.

just. let. go.

i see movement out of the corner of my eye and footsteps echo over the sound of the rushing water and birdsong.

alone.
i must surrender.

Jesus, i am here. at the foot of the cross. i am laying it down. everything.




i surrender.

the ground is level at the foot of your cross. i am not better .... but not worse. no one is more worthy than another. and there is room for everyone.

as i go out from this place, i will take another path. it is uphill. it will exhaust and fatigue me. there will be a crossroads and even voices that discourage me along the way. but i will emerge from the shadows into the sun with victory.

and when i return to my starting point, i will have support, love and encouragement to take the steps the Lord ha planned. with courage. with love.

and Jesus' ever-present hand holding mine and carrying me when i need it.

and like Peter, i need not know where i am going. if i take my eyes of of Jesus, i will sink in the sea of my overwhelmed mind. i need only to acknowledge that i love my Lord and that I will take up the cross and follow. He is telling me to GO.

Not to us, but to you, o Lord.

i am ready.

i will GO.


my metaphorical mind led me on an amazing journey, God speaking every step of the way.

i am ready.

i will go.

**Note: the arena where the cross was placed is called Victory Circle. hmmm.


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