My youngest son decided to slide down a rock into a small pool of river water. This choice was made after seeing other older kids make it look fun. Plus, it cut off half the hike time on the edge of a cliff. I conceded to his request, noting the water depth was shallow, almost serving as a kiddie pool between rock and sand. My husband was with another child still jumping in the water, nowhere in sight. I was helping my third son around a corner on the ledge, thinking my youngest would either stay with his oldest brother or wait for me to assist him, but then I saw a ghostly current pulling him away.
It wasn't riptide status, but without his usual life jacket, my little boy began to panic. The current was faster than any of us realized. Apparently it didn't affect the older kids the same way. I tried to calm him, saying, "Stand up. Just stand up. Use your feet. It's not deep." Instead of trying to stand, my six-year old frantically grappled for something to hold onto. The smooth, algae-covered rocks and slimy, sinking sand below his feet caused him to rip off more than half of his fingernails. He screamed louder. What could I do but drop everything and slide down to pick him up before he traumatically went out deeper water. Somehow in the process of my drop, I broke my wrist. Obviously I have no regrets or blame because my son was safe minus some bloody fingers.
I knew instantly something was wrong with my wrist though. The pain was excruciating, but my pride hurt more as an onlooker showed serious concern for my son. All he had to do was stand up, but all he wanted to do was grab a hold of someone or something to save him. Without that option, he struggled and suffered as a result. I realize this accident is quite minor in the grand scope of our lives, but it's incredible how such a small incident created a ripple of analogous lessons for me.
God simply says, "Stand up. Just stand up and look at me," but I am groping and grappling for someone else, or something else, to give me a sense of security and peace. The contraption on my dominant hand has opened the floodgates of exhaustion coupled with a desire for more control over my life. As I rip off fingernails on slippery rocks, I am dragging myself into the open waters of frantic control.
God says again, "All you have to do is trust me, and stand up. Look up at me, and I will give you peace. Trust me. Just stand up." But I want some physical reassurance. I want proof that I'll be okay without the comfort and control of something to hold on to. I want plans, purpose, and concrete pathways for my own satisfaction. I want to guide and define my life with my own grip.
Pivoting from our plans, standing up rather than lying and floating along the riverbank is harder if we are used to grabbing a hold of someone--something to carry us in the current so we don't have to pivot. In actuality the current isn't that difficult if we slowly stand and look to God for help. But this seems too simple, too passive, too counter-intuitive from our natural desire to control.
Letting go of gripping is just one part of the journey. After six months of nomadic living, daily structure changes, a lack of consistency and new physical weaknesses, I'm bare. My vulnerability mixes with humility and forces me to see that I have to actually stand up on the rock of my faith. I can't just think, speak, or write about God's goodness. God wants me to stand on His faithfulness. I just didn't know it would look like this.
"Truly he is my rock and my salvation; he is my fortress, I will not be shaken. My salvation and my honor depend on God; he is my mighty rock, my refuge." (Psalm 62:6-7)
When you are slipping or on the verge, just stand up, slowly, and rest on the assurance that God is always right there with you, and He longs to be gracious to you and supply all your needs. "He will not let your foot slip— he who watches over you will not slumber" (Psalm 121:3). When push comes to shove, no other person or thing will hold you up like the love and faithfulness of God. Even when I've felt exhausted, as if the heaviness on my heart is too much for me to actually rest, God has lovingly whispered that His yoke is easy, His burden is light, and He'll stay up with me and grant me peace. All I have to do the next day is stand up and trust the rock under my feet.
~Carefully & Carelessly standing up
Thanks for sharing, perfectly on point!!