Most of the time I like to have
everything figured out. I like to
know where we’re going, what we’re doing, and when we're going to get there. More often than I like to admit I like to rest in comfort and safety.
This was another one of those I-don't-want-to-do-anything-hard days.
We're driving down Highway 101 and Mark sees catches a glimpse of that grand Pacific. It woos him in every way.
We swerve off the highway to see if
there’s a path down to that grand ocean view. We hop out of the car and I see nothing, so I hurry back. Meanwhile, Mark wanders. Five minutes later he pops his head out
of those Oregon green bushes, “I found one!”
This is not the comfortable,
uneventful morning I was hoping for. But I appease him. The
least I can do is check out the path.
First he bring me to this. Wandering into a bunch of bushes ain't no thing in Oregon, right?
Yes. This is the "path" he found.
Then we come to this.
I’m not so sure. That's too far down. There's not enough landing space. I have no-traction boots for landing. That's too steep. I’ll
fly right down the hill.
Mark beckons and I leap to his held out hand.
Then this. This is a terrible picture, but it's a straight down shot with little foot grip and a bunch of slick rock for the landing pad. I'm not exactly excited.
I'm not
gonna do it. I can see the view
from here and it’s just fine.
Remember? I’m just ready
for rest and beauty. The condo
with the view calls.
Mark finagles his way down. “It’s not that hard!” he yells up from
below. I come up with every excuse
in the book. I just don’t wanna do
it. The view’s good enough from here.
“But you’re sooo close!” I don’t care. See, I’m close.
“Won’t you regret not coming down this one last part? It’s prettier down here.” Dang it! Fine! I catch
my boot on the stump and scrape it like I knew I would. I awkward finagle myself down the cliff,
reaching root to root, and dirt pile to rock, then leap. I master the cliff and turn around proud.
Wow.
The rocks are slick and we’re
sliding everywhere. It doesn’t
matter though. The beauty is worth every scuff mark and nervous jump. I find the perfect rock seat to cozy up and take it
all in. As I sit quiet I hear God’s voice gently roaring at me
in those waves. All is well.
Mark races around, climbs to the
farthest rock, hops tidepools, then runs eager to my side. “Do you just wanna make it to that waterfall?" he spits out like an excited kid in a playground, "it’s the last place we haven’t been!”
All I see is this field of large, jagged rocks and the ocean sweeping over any hope of a sand pathway.
The only way to get to that faint waterfall is right over top.
I hop up on the first rock and pause a moment to feel out which rock is my next best step. I carefully maneuver to the next one and pause again. That’s where everything starts to click.
Sometimes in life we just have to take one
step at a time. Sometimes one day
at a time. Sometimes one hour at a
time. Just take each thing as it comes and
trust God will meet us there in each moment. I don't have to have the whole plan of how I'm going to get there. I just have to take each step as it comes.
One boulder by one boulder, and one step by one step I meet the waterfall mist.
So much beauty.
Isn’t that how life is? God’s been speaking these grand
dreams, these too-big-for-us visions and sometimes (much of the time) I am
overwhelmed. When I see the end
picture I can’t possibly imagine how we’ll ever get there. I’d rather be comfortable and safe, stopping somewhere toward the middle, or even the beginning of the journey.
The cliff jumps and forging bush pathways isn't easy work. Sometimes it's intimidating. But the end was far more beautiful than I could have possibly imagined.
He will be with you every
step of the way, and when you get to the end goal, you’ll be so glad you did.
Just one cliff, by one jump, by one conquer, by one
day at a time. That’s
how we have to do it.
Don’t you think that’s how those
heroes in Hebrews did it?
“Abraham moved without knowing where
he was going.”
One step at a time. Just do what Jesus tells you in that
day, in that season. All those
“movings” will add up to something grand and glorious.
For decades Noah faithfully built a
gigantic boat. One step by one
step, until he boarded his family on that massive thing and saved them all.
A city isn’t built in a day, and
neither are your God-dreams. One step,
one risk, one conversation. You've got this. You, me, all of us,
we’re all slow moving forward to the grand vision God has called us to.
The risk, the pain, the scuff marks, the hours, they are worth it for such a grand view.
Song for the Journey - Let this be your heart's encouragement and prayer: Kari Jobe “You are for me”
I know that you are for me // I know that you are for me // I know that you will never forsake me in my weakness