What More?

Really guys.  Come on.
Was that really necessary?

The hail and locusts.
The exodus.
The parting of the Red Sea.
The pillar of cloud and fire.
The manna.  The quail.  The water.
The thundering of the presence of God on the mountain that greets you each morning when you rise from your tent.

Then Moses meets with God up there for a bit.
Apparently a bit too long.
And you beg Aaron for a god to worship.
What?
What more do you need?
What more could God possibly do to show you his God-ness and it be enough?

It just seems preposterous.  Ludicrous in fact.

And then as always I realize I need to ask myself the same question.

What more do you need, Jen?

Reading stories of the Israelites.  Hearing and living the stories, of your faithfulness and provision and with-ness.  It’s weaved through all of Your Story.
What more do I need to see and hear to trust you?
To fully surrender?

What more do you need?

Shut Up And Pedal.

I have a second set of parents.
They are an incredible blessing.  I can't even begin to explain.  But, one of them shared this poem with me as we sat talking about a life of faith.  And by it, may you be encouraged to just shut up.  And pedal.

The Road of Life 

At first, I saw God as my observer,
my judge,
keeping track of the things I did wrong,
so as to know whether I merited heaven
or hell when I die. 

He was out there sort of like a president.
I recognized His picture when I saw it,
but I really didn't know Him. 

But later on
when I met Christ,
it seemed as though life was rather like a bike ride,
but it was a tandem bike,
and I noticed that Christ
was in the back helping me pedal. 

I don't know just when it was
that He suggested we change places,
but life has not been the same since. 

When I had control,
I knew the way.
It was rather boring,
but predictable . . .
It was the shortest distance between two points. 

But when He took the lead,
He knew delightful long cuts,
up mountains,
and through rocky places
at breakneck speeds,
it was all I could do to hang on! 

Even though it looked like madness,
He said, "Pedal!"
I worried and was anxious
and asked,
"Where are you taking me?"
He laughed and didn't answer,
and I started to learn to trust. 

I forgot my boring life
and entered into the adventure.
And when I'd say, "I'm scared,"
He'd lean back and touch my hand. 

He took me to people with gifts that I needed,
gifts of healing,
acceptance
and joy.
They gave me gifts to take on my journey,
my Lord's and mine. 

And we were off again.
He said, "Give the gifts away;
they're extra baggage, too much weight."
So I did,
to the people we met,
and I found that in giving I received,
and still our burden was light. 

I did not trust Him,
at first,
in control of my life.
I thought He'd wreck it;
but He knows bike secrets,
knows how to make it bend to take sharp corners,
knows how to jump to clear high rocks,
knows how to fly to shorten scary passages. 

And I am learning to shut up
and pedal
in the strangest places,
and I'm beginning to enjoy the view
and the cool breeze on my face
with my delightful constant companion, Jesus Christ.
And when I'm sure I just can't do anymore,
He just smiles and says . . . "Pedal." 

-- author unknown

See.  My adopted parents have great taste.  And a lot of wisdom.

Different Sides Of The Mountain.

It is unseasonably warm.  Record high temperatures for Michigan in March.  Definitely not the norm.   I’m beginning to wonder what isn’t unseasonable in this life.  Everything in my neck of the woods seems to be a little out of the ordinary.  Mostly because there doesn’t seem to be an ordinary.  Maybe I just haven’t lived enough seasons yet to notice a pattern...?  But alas, I digress.  Let’s get back to the fact that:
I spent the evening at the BEACH.
In MARCH.
In a tee-shirt.
After some scribbling in my notebook and line reading, I decided to stretch my legs.  And the muscles in my toes and the arches of my feet.  Sand will do all of that, very well.
Due to the fact that it is still early in the season the hard packed sand is exposed it many areas and found in large fluffy mounds in others.  Rocks have become little towers unto themselves as the wind carves away the sand around them.
I was taking all this in-which actually means I was mostly trying not to let my mind run off in a million different directions.  A good long walk usually helps with this, but it’s a bit of a fight in the beginning until rhythm sets in and my crazy brain loses steam.  So, I was taking this in... when all of a sudden, I was ankle deep in wet sand!  I quickly pulled my foot up and continued, my tread sinking an inch or two, only to loose my foot a few steps later.   I continued on, my mind now pondering the quicksand.

We’re walking along in life, on what looks like hard, wet sand.  Our minds are a thousand miles away and we are just going about our business paying little mind to the ‘predictable’ surface upon which we tread. Then suddenly, we are caught off-gaurd.  It startles us, throws us off our balance. We might even roll and ankle, who knows? We have to re-steady ourself after this unforeseen obstacle and try to move forward without trepidation after receiving a curve ball.

And sometimes, all we want is to fall in.  The flat hard surface feels desolate and monotonous and we want something deeper.  Something more and other than this routine.  As we press on, we are begging for anything that will refresh our weary feet. The sudden loss of our foot is like a breath of fresh air, a joyous ‘awakening’. It brings smile to our face, and we bound forward hoping for another thrill, another taste of something messy and intimate.  

The same event can elicit different reactions depending on which side of the mountain you are on.
I’m not sure if you've understood even a bit of all that.
It felt profound.  When finding myself startled and later delighted after discovering quicksand.  Perhaps it’s profundity depends on whether or not your are on my side of the mountain.

There’s a good chance that I’m just a little nutters as well.  And for me, that’s not really unseasonable.

The Ship.

Sometimes, you find yourself on a large ship.
A sturdy ship.
Wooden and worn.
The sun bleached deck beneath your feet telling stories much older, much bigger, than your own.
It’s sails large and billowing, catching the salty breeze, carrying you ever forward.
It’s weathered storms.  Big storms.

Like the one you currently find yourself in.
The wind picks up.
Sails flailing wildly in the forceful gusts.
Menacing swells tossing you back and forth like a toy boat.
The rain coming down in torrents, in cold heavy sheets.
Tops of waves covering the weathered deck with icy water.
The wheel spinning unrestrained, the rudder useless.
And even if it were operable, it would be of no matter.
For even your hands disappear in front of your face into the inky blackness and driving rain.
You can’t steer the vessel.
And even if you could you wouldn’t be able to set a course.

This is when you hunker down.  Wait it out.

This ship is a trusty one.
It’s weathered storms before.  Big storms.
Just like the one you currently find yourself in.
For the time being, you can’t steer the vessel.  You can’t set the course.

But this ship is a trusty one.
It will carry you through this.
And before long the clouds will break.
The sun will creep up on the horizon and wake the day,
Lighting the settled waters.
A soft breeze will fill the faithful sails.
Your course will again be clear.
Grasping the wheel in your calloused hands, you will smile.
Maybe even sing.

Just Another Question.

So, I’ve been thinking; why the wilderness?

I made it through the Israelite’s flight from the oppressive hand of Egypt.
Pillars of cloud and fire as a guide.  Which has become my most recent prayer.  I’d take a firefly for pete’s sake, as long as I could follow it somewhere.
The parting of the Red Sea.  It’s a massive body of water.  Split. They bustled right through a water-walled corridor with Pharaoh’s entourage nipping at their heels.

Fear not, stand firm, and see the salvation of the LORD, which he will work for you today...The LORD will fight for you, and you have only to be silent.  Exodus 14:13-14  

Moses drops a praise jam.  Sing it.
Filling their bellies. Cleaning bad water with a log and sending food in the form of glutinous frost.  And let’s not forget hitting a rock with a stick to get water too.
Defeating the army of Amalek. With God, and the help of some good friends.
Some father-in-law-ly advice.  Which I’ve written about before...
The presence of God.  Enough said.
The Ten Commandments.  A semi-pivotal part in the story.

All of these things could be a page or two on their own.
But through all this, I can’t shake it; why the wilderness?

When Pharaoh let the people go, God did not lead them by way of the land of the Philistines, although that was near.  For God said, “Lest the people change their minds when they see war and return to Egypt.”  But God led the people around by the way of the wilderness toward the Red Sea.  Exodus 13:17-18

War.  I’m not  certain, but I can see why something like war might make you change your mind.
I do know for certain that there have been a few times in the wilderness where I’ve thought, “Why the heck am I choosing to subject myself to this right now?” A few trips across insanely windy lakes and sleeping on roots and rocks after hiking all day come to mind.

And the Israelites ended up 'changing their minds' in the wilderness anyway.  Many times wanting their [comfortable] lives of slavery back.

So why the wilderness God?  
You had to have known that your people are prone to these changes of feeling.  One minute they are crying out to you because of their oppression and the next they’re begging to go back.  Just lead them through the war, let them change their minds, save and provide over and over again, and get them to the promised land a little quicker.
There has to be something else going on here.

Did you have to deprogram your people?
Deconstruct their identity as slaves instead of sons and daughters?
Break down the influences of a culture with many gods but devoid of the real deal?
Did you need to show them your glory?
Remind them that the Lord their God is one, the one?
And that He is freaking powerful, compassionate and amazing?
Did they just need time?
Time and distance before they entered the promised land, a new life?
Did they need to experience your ceaseless faithfulness for forty years before they would really understand?
Were you doing all of the above God?
And something really cool that I don’t even know about?

And after all that, my questions remains.
Why the wilderness?
Why.
The.
Wilderness.

If anyone has any insight.  Please, do share.
I love sharing.

The Four Way Stop.

I hesitate.
I pause,          falter.

My foot resting timidly over the accelerator.
Leaning forward, hands at ten and two.
Eyes darting back and forth.
Me? You? Were you? Okay. Wait? Me?
I press the gas lightly, my nose edging ever so slightly past the stop sign.  Finally working up the nerve to creep out.
Then out of the corner of my eye I see a hint of their wheel turning and I lose my gumption.
My foot jumps instinctively off the accelerator and back to the comfort of the brake pedal and my car lurches momentarily as I make eye contact with the other party clearly waiting for me to go.

Yes, I am one of those drivers.

And as this was pointed out to me, I wondered...
Am I one of ‘those’ in life too?


Forever hesitating.
Living in a state of uncertainty.
Is it my turn?
Wait, should I go?
Were you there first, or was I?

Yes, very unfortunately, yes.  I often am.
I don’t move forward, I lurch forward.  Jerky and constipated.  Foot forever hovering nervously over the brakes.
Sometimes, I just have to decide. Stick to my guns.
At the four way stop,  I          just            have          to         press           the          gas        and        GO.
So my friends, here’s to the accelerator.  Gosh, I need to learn how to use it.
May I press it down with level headed determination.  We’re not aiming to crash here after all.
We’re working on getting through a four way stop without confusing everyone.
Choose a way and GO.