Distress: A State of Danger or Desperate Need

Then they cried out to the Lord in their trouble, 
and he delivered them from their distress. 
(Psalm 107:6 NIV)

Bangert Island, February 2013

This morning, I flipped the calendar to a new month. Marking the days can be distressing, unless I look at the passing of time as a celebration. Today, I chose to celebrate. I wrote down the names of each month, then next to each month I wrote down major events. A lot has happened in 7 months. Later in the day, I realized I didn’t even write down a couple of them.

As you may have figured out by now, I also follow the church calendar. Right now we are in the midst of ordinary time, the time where we count our days until Advent, the next big season and one I have come to cherish each year. 

As I thought about this new month, I wondered if I should focus on a theme like I did last month, but nothing particular popped into my mind.  Most likely, I will write about my ordinary life. Like today’s adventure hiking at Bangert Island, with my friend Carol.

In February, I had hiked there was with my friend, Dawn, and the ground was covered with snow. We were going to meet for coffee, but it was a sunny day and she invited me to hike. We enjoyed a peaceful walk, while we talked. Our adventure refreshed our souls. 

Today on the spur of the moment, I invited Carol to join me at the park for our own little adventure. The scene gushed with green, the color of ordinary time. We walked and talked, catching up on each other’s lives. We remarked how much we both needed a little adventure, a break from the routine. We sat by the river and tried our hands at sketching the scene. After visiting for awhile, I suggested we take the longer route back. 

We had to climb over a fallen tree and mush through some mud. We lost our way for a while, as the trail became unreadable. We mostly laughed about it and then asked God to get us back to the path. In moments we saw the red ribbons tied to a tree. We made our way back to the defined path.

 We were almost to the end of our walk, when I stopped abruptly. 

A snake was coiled on the path before us. It didn’t look poisonous, and it was a very small, innocuous thing, but neither one of us wanted to step over him. (In our fright, we neglected to take a picture of the snake, which if you saw would make this story even more comical. But really snakes are not something I care to mess around with, let alone photograph.)

We looked for a way around him, but we were thwarted by poison ivy on both sides. We stood there for several minutes, unwilling to retrace our steps back or move forward. We tried throwing sticks at the snake; it wouldn’t budge. He just sat there flicking his tiny red tongue, staring us down. I told Carol, I really was paralyzed with fear. I just did not want to risk stepping over him. I cried a little prayer of distress to Our Father. 

We were about to take a running leap over the little guy, when I realized that I could call my husband and ask him for a way out of our predicament. He patiently listened, but I am sure he was shaking his head over my irrational fear of this baby snake. I told him it was small, but I didn’t want to risk the snake striking out at us. He suggested I take a long stick and poke the snake to get it off the trail. I hung up, found a stick and did what he said. The snake scuttled off into the underbrush. We were safe to resume our walk.

My spiritual takeaway from our adventure: Even the smallest of obstacles can paralyze me. But when I pray, God does indeed show me the way out. God is patient and understanding with my irrational fears. He gives me the courage to overcome them. And lastly, He doesn’t want me to journey alone. I am thankful for companions, He has provided to share in the adventure of life.
How are you celebrating ordinary time? 
What distress do you need God to deliver you from?

Gate: A Means of Entrance or Exit

I am the Gate. Anyone who goes through me will be cared for—will freely go in and out, and find pasture. A thief is only there to steal and kill and destroy. I came so they can have real and eternal life, more and better life than they ever dreamed of.
(John 10:9-10 The Message)

See the freedom Jesus has provided?
 To enter and exit
as He watches over you and me.
He is the gate from death unto life.
Cemeteries are for the dead.
Come and live the incredible life
that surpasses the grave.
This gate reminds me of the night Jennifer Dukes Lee bravely stood before us to share her dream journey, to bolster our courage in order to remove the obstacles of sin and fear from our path.
She said, “Gates are made to pass through.” As I look back over my notes, I can’t remember if the invitation to write our sins on the rock came before or after the gate illustration, but now it doesn’t seem to matter. I just remember the hard struggle I had to identify my sin or at least the one I was willing to write on the rock. And as I struggled, I realized I had to write the word that was keeping me from passing through the gate or I would never get to those green, lush pastures that Jesus promised.
I didn’t want to write my word because it didn’t seem as important as other sins (comparison points out my sin).  I thought my sin was more difficult to overcome. Fear and self-doubt seemed easier to release in light of God’s love. (I’m not saying that it is, it just felt that way to me in the moment.)
My struggle to even write the word on the rock indicated my sin. I was afraid I might get the wrong word or that I might make the wrong choice. Most of my life I have been afraid of getting it wrong. And in that moment, clear as the glass pebble, we would receieve Sunday morning, I knew I had to write PRIDE on my rock.
Both fear of failure and fear of success are rooted in pride, in the belief that I control my accomplishments and in the doubt that if I don’t get it right, I somehow don’t measure up to God’s standards. Pride in my life has often worn two faces: self-sufficiency and self-pity. Two sides of the same sin.
Placing the rock in the basket was a simple, physical act that released a rush of joy into my soul. And to see Jennifer’s daughters throw them into the bottom of the lake is a visual reminder of how God has triumphed over and over again in all of our struggles, and that we are not alone.
But I know whom I have believed,
and am persuaded that He is ABLE 
to keep that which I’ve committed
unto Him against that day.
(I Know Whom I Have Believed David Whittle, 1883)