Faith Steps

A step of faith always feels like a free fall to me.  One big, bold step followed by stomach-vanishing, heart-in-throat, where’d-the-ground-go? panic.  I used to think that after this many years of trusting Jesus I’d be able to shake that feeling – that my steps into thin air would begin to feel confident and sure.  Matrix-like.

I’m still terrified.

God has proven Himself over and over again in my life.  He is faithful, and not just on paper.  He has been faithful to me.  In my need, He has been sufficient.  In my weakness, He has been strong.  He has taken my impossibilities and turned them into strength and beauty.  He has held me close so many times.  I know Him.

I know Him, but I’m far from understanding Him; and I think that’s the part that scares me.  He still moves in ways that baffle me…horrify me even.  I’m sure of His character, but His ways?  He busts out of my boxes All. The. Time.

The more I learn of God, the more I understand that faith doesn’t always equal rescue.  And no matter how hard I try, I can’t seem to figure out His rescue/not rescue formula.

Hebrews 11 is filled with stories of men and women who trusted God.  These Biblical heroes who stepped out in faith, “subdued kingdoms, worked righteousness, obtained promises, stopped the mouths of lions, quenched the violence of fire, escaped the edge of the sword, out of weakness were made strong, became valiant in battle, turned to flight the armies of the aliens…received their dead raised to life again.”

Yes!  Victory!  I love following God!

“Others were tortured, not accepting deliverance, that they might obtain a better resurrection.  Still others had trial of mockings and scourgings, yes, and of chains and imprisonment.  They were stoned, they were sawn in two, were tempted, were slain with the sword.  They wandered about in sheepskins and goatskins, being destitute, afflicted, tormented – of whom the world was not worthy.”

Umm, God?  Was that in the fine print?

When it comes right down to it, I think that faith clings to the fact that God is good, even when His definition of good is different than mine.  I think that honest believers hold up God’s unfathomable will in one hand and their own containable will in the other and ask themselves this question, “Can I trust that God’s will is ultimately, infinitely better than my own?”  True faith answers, “Yes.”

The truth is, when I walk by faith, I have no idea what circumstances I am going to get.  My faith isn’t based on that kind of result.  My faith is based on God’s character, which I already know for sure.  Character which doesn’t spare me from the possibility of failure or shattered dreams, but always replaces my goals and dreams with something infinitely better:  Himself.

When I say, “I’m afraid,” God says, “I AM your shelter.”

When I say, “This hurts,” God says, “I AM your comfort.”

I’m too small for this…I AM a Mighty Warrior

I don’t know where I’m going…I AM the Way

I’ve lost my bearings…I AM the Truth

I can’t breathe…I AM the Life

I would love a Red Sea kind of result to my faith.  Walls fallen, lions tamed, fire quenched…that’s what I’m talkin’ ‘bout!  But I would also like to be able to stand alongside Job, faith-filled and able to say, “Though He slay me, yet will I trust Him.”

I am so weak…I AM strong.

Lord, I believe; help my unbelief.

~Mark 9:24~

The Dance

We dance together, He and I.  He gently leads as we twirl and weave through fragrant meadows, across whispering streams, along deeply wooded paths, past hidden glades.  His gaze never leaves my face; His eyes infinite pools holding deep and ancient secrets.  I belong to Him, and He is mine.

The song is His own, and as my eyes rest steadfastly on His, I sway freely to its refrain.  Bound together by the chorus, we move as one ~ every step in perfect rhythm.  The course of the dance is not mine to fathom; only He knows the way it will take.  The strength of His arms and the surety of His steps are my refuge.

As trees give way to open field, the sunlight spreads warm across my cheeks.  Lyrical strains unfurl into boundless sky.  Enchanted, my eyes wander to the beauty surrounding us:  brilliant blossoms waving lazily in the sun-soaked breeze, swallows diving low and skimming tall grass, an endless sapphire sky stretching high above.  The melody plays airy and whimsical, and I close my eyes, swinging lightly to its lilting tones.  I could dance here forever.

It only takes a moment to stumble.  With my eyes no longer fixed on His, I've missed the subtle shift. Enraptured by the loveliness of this place, I've stopped following His lead.  One missed beat and I falter, our cadence thrown out of rhythm.  His steady hands restore my balance, but my head still spins, disoriented.  Only as His eyes once again catch mine am I able to hear the transition I missed ~ the music is changing.

Why does this trouble me?  His symphony is ever-changing, and His dance ever-moving.  This is the profound mystery of His exquisite song.  It's just that I've grown fond of this present movement; its rhythm and harmonies suit me.  And I wonder where the dance might take us from here.  Will we spin and glide our way into arid desert, accompanied by harsh tones and minor chords?  Will barrenness surround us?  Will the strength of His embrace be the only beauty that remains?  The only beauty...

My wayward heart strikes a dissonant note.  How could I have forgotten my first love?  Hasn't His embrace always been enough?  We've traveled foreign terrain before, He and I.  When did the sweetness of the music and the ease of the dance take His place in my heart?  His is the only beauty that I need; the steadiness of His gaze the only oasis I require.

Our steps realign as I raise my eyes to His, finite meeting infinite.  My heart remembers its one true treasure and swells with joy.  My soul finds the meter of his anthem once again, and with hands entwined, we dance on.

Fear Turned to Faith

Yesterday, I was challenged by this question:  How much do we leave on the table with God simply because of our lack of faith?  The inquiry resonated deep within me because God has already been busy shaping my heart in this area. 

Several times in the past month, as I’ve worried myself silly about my own lack of ability, energy, time, etc., I’ve been stopped short by the Holy Spirit who quietly whispers in my ear, “Just ask, sweetie.  Simply ask Me for what you need.”  And I have had my socks blown off by His rapid and overwhelming response to my pleas.  Even more surprisingly, I’ve asked with such small and shaky faith.  How patient He is with me!  Why do I so easily forget how big my God is?  How does it slip my mind that He loves to give extravagantly good gifts to His precious children?  Where is the boldness of my faith?

In the same breath, there is a balance that is absolutely essential to this boldness:  a deep and abiding reverence for the sovereign will of God.  A knee that quickly bows in submission to the inevitable “no” that will occasionally come from His throne room.  I refuse to ever ascribe to the “name it and claim it” brand of religion that cheapens the amazing grace of God and completely ignores the Biblical theology of suffering.  I cannot possibly comprehend His master plan.  His authority is absolute.  And sometimes my requests will be to Him like a child’s plea for candy ten minutes before dinner, or the cries of a little girl who cannot understand why she can’t play at the park that backs up to a busy road.

All the same, I would rather hear a thousand “no”s from God than to miss even one “yes.”  I would rather burst through the gates of heaven to hear, “Well done, My good and feisty servant,” than to enter paradise only to find that I’ve left a world of possibilities on His table.

God seems to be determined to expand my vision of His power and intimate care lately, and it’s starting to settle into my heart.  It’s making me bolder…and more humble.  It fills me with a frequent desire to lift my hands to the sky and tell Him how amazed I am by Him.  And isn’t that the essence of knowing Him?  We bring to Him the little bit that we have, He breathes His presence into it until it throbs with life, and we lift our hands in worship.

“Let us therefore come boldly to the throne of grace, that we may obtain mercy and find grace to help in time of need.”  ~Hebrews 4:16