Safety, Beauty, and Power

originally on Heartlight

It had been a hot, difficult week of work for the teens on the mission trip. The other sponsors and I were just as eager as the teens for a fun day — an excursion to a water park in a nearby coastal town. The park wasn't large, but was a well-planned water amusement park.

We enjoyed the rides, slides, and boogie boards. There was no need to leave your inner tube to stand in line — you could float while waiting for the various rides. Rapids and a conveyor belt hauled park-goers the circumference of the park as they enjoyed enormous buckets of water dumped at random times and various waterfall spots. It was a good way to relax after a long week of hot mission work for the teens and sponsors.

When we gathered for lunch, almost as an afterthought, several of us made plans to venture out to the beach. With admission to the park came access to the adjacent beach. We cleaned up our area, left the shady picnic spot of the park, making our way toward the beach.

Up a flight of stairs and across a lengthy, narrow, rickety, wooden bridge we trudged through the heat of the glaring sun. The bridge seemed forever long as it stretched across sand overgrown with weeds. Finally the bridge emptied the group onto crystal white sands with the thunderous ocean beating down at our feet, still steaming from the trek over the bridge. The air was a cooler temperature here as the wind blew in off of the ocean.

As the teens began to play like toddlers in the surf, shedding the cloak of ambivalence they try to maintain at all times, I surveyed the scene. With all respect to the architects of the water park, it simply couldn't compare. If it had been a photograph I would have claimed it to be photoshopped, with too-perfect tinting of blue-green water rolling in on the white sand. The brilliant azure of the sky was punctuated with soft puffs of white. The picture was perfectly accented by a lone ship floating regally on the horizon.

As my eyes took in the beauty, the rest of my senses were overwhelmed with this awe-inspiring scene. The faint smell of salt rolled in on the cool breeze that refreshed my sun-warmed skin. The call of the gulls could be heard sporadically over the faithful roar of the waves.

The whole of the scene filled my heart, as well as my eyes with tears, as I considered the One who created it all. How could any of this compare to the man-made park we had just left? The beauty was breathtaking; the peace that the scene brought was beyond compare.

My eyes continued to survey the wonder while watching the teens and enjoying the sound of their laughter. I began to notice another enormous contrast to the water park: where were all the people? A couple of love birds holding hands in the surf, a young girl with a scorched back building a sandcastle, and a small family seemed to be the only people at that section of beach. Where were all the people?

Back at the water park floating the lazy river, I suppose.

I grieved over how many people were missing this breathtaking sight, just feet from where they played in man-made fun.

Of course, there were no lifeguards on the beach, and warnings were posted about a dangerous current. With the majesty of the ocean came amazing power, dangerous if not respected.

When we finally wearied of jumping and playing in the surf we began the long walk across the footbridge back to the park. I glanced back at the beach, wondering how many times I have missed a scene so majestic by playing it safe. Majesty may be waiting just beyond a long, lonely walkway, through thorns and weeds.

Have I ever traded a walk with the Lord on His breathtaking beach for the safety of a go-nowhere lazy river, overcrowded with other safety seekers?

I recalled a scene in the book "The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe," by C.S. Lewis where Mr. and Mrs. Beaver are trying to explain Aslan the lion to the children:

"Safe?" said Mr. Beaver. "Don't you hear what Mrs. Beaver tells you? Who said anything about safe? 'Course he isn't safe. But he's good. He's the King, I tell you."

Is walking with my Lord safe? No, not always. Like the beach, there may be danger and trials my earthly eyes can't see or understand. I've certainly suffered my share of scrapes and bruises. But he is always very, very good.

Focus On the Goal

by Sarah Stirman
on heartlight

It happened again. Out running, my foot landed squarely on ... something ... a pecan ... a rock? Whatever it was, it rolled my foot right off, twisted my ankle, and sent me sprawling. Now I'm sporting an oh-so-fashionable walking cast and have a few weeks to rest the foot before I can take off running again.

Having a "poor me" moment, I started thinking, "Well, how am I supposed to run? I guess I'll have to focus on the ground around me to keep this from happening again ..." That would slow me down considerably, and cause me to hate running as I would spend each run scanning the road at my feet for obstacles or jeopardy instead of enjoying the scenery and running toward my goal.

Well, what do successful runners do? Successful runners run smart by not running on obviously treacherous landscape, but run with gusto enjoying the scenery, scanning the road for obvious pitfalls and dangers but keeping an eye on the goal, knowing that injury is an acceptable risk: it just might happen and you deal with it when it does. You can't run a successful race worrying about and focusing on obstacles and injuries; you run a successful race by knowing your goal and running toward it.

What if this race I run in life were the same way? What if I spent most of my time enjoying the scenery and focusing on my goal of heaven instead of trying to tiptoe my way around obstacles and worrying about what I will do if I get hurt? I tend to hyper-focus on people that may (or have) hurt me, situations and arguments that hold me back or frustrate me, and obstacles and stumbling blocks that only serve to keep my eyes off my goal.

In the same way that the road I run on is my reality, and perils along the way will likely be a problem at some point, this world that I live in is my reality, no matter how perfect my goal destination is. Focusing on my goal of heaven won't keep this world from affecting me, twisting my ankle and scraping my knees on occasion. But I can't let the fear of that injury keep me from running this race with all I've got, loving and living big and loud, spilling God's love and sharing my goal of heaven along the path. I must run smart, and avoid obvious pitfalls, but I have to accept getting hurt as acceptable risk: it will happen at some point and God will continue to be faithful, providing His people and His comfort in my time of recuperation.

So I'm ready. Ready to get back to road running as well as running through life with my eyes on my goal, not on the pettiness and mess around me. If you see me sprawled along the way, I may need help to my feet, I may need a ride home, and I may need some encouragement and comfort while I recuperate. But I'll invite you to run alongside me, running this race with perseverance, fixing our eyes on Jesus, striding together toward the goal.

Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles, and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us. Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith (Hebrews 12:1-2 NIV).

Forgiveness

today on heartlight

Years ago in the days of small children in diapers, car seats, sippy cups, and pacifiers, I learned a valuable lesson of forgiveness. It was one of those ridiculously busy times in our life. My husband was drowning in work and church obligations and I was going stir crazy with the little ones at home and had my own share of church obligations.

In the middle of one of those weeks, we were trying to all get out the door for our mid-week service at church. Of course, at church, we all had what seemed to be 437 different obligations, and my husband had a meeting after church. I was still rushing to finish cleaning up from dinner so I asked him to go ahead and take the kids to church since we needed two separate cars there anyway. I thoroughly enjoyed a few kid-free moments and took my time finishing up.

I wandered up to church and stopped and visited with some friends in the hall. As I was passing the classroom where my younger child should have been in class, I quizzed a dad standing outside the class, "He's in there, right?" He seemed baffled, "No, I saw your daughter and her friend taking your son upstairs." Well, that's weird. Maybe I should go check on that.

I climbed the stairs and began walking the hall. The first classroom I came to had the lights on – and one very dejected almost-two-year old alone in the room. It was the classroom he attended on Sunday nights. It was Wednesday. I can still see his chubby little cheeks and sad eyes that must have wondered what in heaven's name he had done to be left alone for Bible class. I got him all squared away where he should have been, and tried to go on with my evening.

But I was angry. Actually, I was FURIOUS. Knowing it would be a very long time before I had an opportunity to talk to my husband, I did a very thoughtless thing. I went to the door of the room where he was in Bible class and asked him to meet me in the hall. When he got there, I unleashed with both barrels about how I couldn't believe he would let our 3 1/2 year old take our 1 1/2 year old to class and not CHECK that all were where they should be. Strangely (or not) he didn't respond very well to that particular approach at conflict resolution. He failed to apologize, muttered something about "Well, that's just one more thing I've messed up lately!" and stormed off.

Fine. I finished all I needed to and took the kids home. I got them all tucked in bed and collapsed on my bed. I prayed and prayed and prayed. I KNEW that the Lord would want me to forgive and I hoped my will would roll out of my head with the tears rolling down my cheeks.
However, stubborn soul that I am, I really thought I had a fairly good argument for NOT forgiving: "Lord, I have felt ignored and cast aside from him lately. I can forgive that. But, Father, that is my baby boy. He ignored him. I vow to you, Father, that I will honor my vow to you and my husband. I will not leave him, but, Lord, I don't think I can ever forgive him. It's my baby boy!"

As the sobs quieted and the words of rage finally left my body, I heard it. No, there was no audible voice in my room. But words came into my head. Words that were not at all in line with my will, but His word: "My God, My God, why have you forsaken me?" (Mark 15:34)

I gasped and cried some more. For His message was clear to me at that moment: "That was MY baby boy. If I can forgive YOU for all the things you have done to put him on that cross, you can certainly forgive the man you love for something your baby boy will never remember."
I was humbled, repentant, and sorrowful. With a few words the Lord reminded me of His holiness and my humanness. How could I possibly be so unforgiving of another human when the Lord of the universe was willing to watch His own baby boy suffer and die to forgive me for everything – every thoughtless sin, every willful sin, sins he knew I would commit later, all of them!

I wish I could say that was the last time I have ever been tempted to draw a line in the sand and tell God, "I will love this person, but I will NOT forgive them." I still have those fleeting thoughts, but they are just that – fleeting. I can be incredibly stubborn and a generally slow learner about life lessons, but it's hard to ignore or forget being reprimanded by the Lord of heaven and earth! "For if you forgive men when they sin against you, your heavenly Father will also forgive you" (Matthew 6:14).