I’ve been staring out my westward facing office window for the past twenty minutes. I feel tired…even after two cups of tea. I’m at peace, but struggling slightly from fatigue. Grateful for the changes in my health over the last twelve months but still hoping it will all go into remission one day.
“There’s time…” I keep telling myself. “God has lead you this far.”
I let my mind continue to recount every instance of His hand and how swiftly He can change things. But I ask Him to give me new words. Words that are not written out of places of hurt or places of waiting. Words written from the fresh and ready-to-be-experienced. Words written from acts of obedience. Words that I will get to write in due time, as I accept His plan for me.
He hears my thoughts and says, “Not yet.”
I recognize it for what it is. The wall is still there. But there is a difference now. I can finally focus on the promise that’s on the other side.
Jericho remains…but not for long.
I’m obsessed with reflection…not to dwell on the past but to be awed by the change He brings about. The stress of the job, the growth of the business, the vacation, a blogging conference in Texas… Well, I thought I knew me. I thought I knew me well.
If He ever smiles I think He’s doing so now, as I type these words, satisfied that He’s revealed what I should’ve known all along but fought so hard to work against.
Like that old jon boat Dad and I would set out on during a crisp, fall evening at the lake. I used to row it all over the cove, but on special occasions, when he had time, he’d get out the motor. We’d pick up speed and be coasting along the glasslike surface of the water where I’d inevitably insist on sticking an oar over the edge of the boat. I would instantly be covered in spray as the oar tried to fight against the direction of the water. No matter how hard I’d try, I could never go against the direction my dad set before me by the power of that motor.
I’ve been attempting to stick that proverbial oar in my glasslike surface for years now. The motor keeps scooting me along, but I’ve been pushing against that direction something fierce.
“If I could just…” I’d tell myself. Just move the obstacle. Just see over it. Just maybe dig down below it and come up on the other side.
I was afraid of the wall. I thought I had to conquer it on my own.
So in order to teach me a lesson…in order to break my fixation on the wall…he brought me right straight through the valley.
I knew it was coming before my toe even reached the edge of the slope. And during that descent, rather than hold out my hands and allow Someone to help me tread carefully, I insisted on stumbling my way down that loose gravel on my own.
As the temperature of the air changed, so cold at times I could almost see my breath, the darkness started to sweep in around me. Not because He chose it to be that way but because my stubborn heart refused to reach toward the Light.
Like a child, hovering under the covers on the bed, just waiting for the Boogeyman’s hand to make contact with their skin. Or they can choose to get up and flip on the light switch, confident that nothing is going to steal their peaceful sleep tonight.
It took me awhile to flip on the Light.
I just thought I knew what was best for me. And while I spent a lot of time groping around, turning door knobs that refused to open, sending questions up that never seemed to return an answer down into my hands…I let my uncertainty steal my sleep. I let it steal my joy.
But He’d already answered me. Already made me the promise. I just couldn’t let go of the fear that I’d have to take down that wall myself.
He wanted to lead and I wasn’t letting Him. I’m sure the Spirit was grieving over my choices during this time. My insistent heart. My frightened, unsatisfied soul.
Yet somewhere, through the search to make it all right again, I prayed for peace. I asked God to come and intervene in the middle of the disarray.
“Let me humble me before You humble me.”
And every few days I’m convicted to let go of something else. For a moment, I stop and worry that soon there will be nothing left of who I was and what I worked so hard for. But I remember the promise.
The wall is not my problem…it is His. I already know the promise that lies on the other side because He’s told me. He’s assured me that it’s mine. Once He takes care of the wall…once Jericho falls…it’ll be time to reach out my hand and take that promise up.
And then His “Not yet” will become “It is time…”
I can’t wait for that day.
I’m joining the following writers for these link-ups today: