You know those suspension bridges that are built with some rope and very questionable planks and stretch across a deep gully? They're usually suspended a thousand feet in the air and as you walk over them, they move and shake beneath your feet with every move? They're also usually poorly maintained, so often missing planks along the way, causing you to bravely hop over the missing pieces and forge to the other side.
There are three types of people who encounter these types of bridges in the rainforests and distant mountain trails. The first kind of person bravely steps out onto that bridge, eyes ahead on the other side, and enjoys the thrill of danger (you people need your heads examined!). The second kind of person lingers for a few minutes, calculates the risk, and eventually caves to the peer pressure of the group and starts walking (whimpering along the way). Then there's the third person. This one sees the risk, fear takes over, and she never moves. She lets everyone go on ahead without her, perfectly content on solid ground.
I'll give you a chance to guess which group I all into. Ok, time's up.
Yeah, I hate those kinds of bridges. They freak me out of my ever-loving mind. I've come across them in my travels over the years, and contentedly let the others I'm with go ahead. "I'll wait here, " I say. "You guys have fun." And I really mean it.
I'm the third type of person. I've never willingly walked across a bridge like that.
At the beginning of this year, God gave me a vision of me standing out in the middle of a bridge just like the one I described. I'm standing in the very center of such a bridge, as it wobbles and moves all around me, but the strange part is, I don't shake at all. I just stand there, perfectly content to stay in the middle place of doom. Normally people do not linger on such bridges. They're dangerous and scary (I think we've established that, so I promise I'll move on). These people are smart. They keep walking to get to the other side.
I don't know how I got to this place in the middle, but there I stand. And I've not been given permission to cross to the other side, nor to return back to where I came from.
I think there are a few reasons I'm standing in this middle place, and I want to share those reasons with you tonight. Maybe you're also standing in the middle of a shaky bridge.
The first thing God has shared with me about this vision is His plan for how He got me out there in the first place. This plan goes farther back in time that I would have imagined on my own. He was knitting together a story in my life before I even realized it, to put me on this bridge for such a time as this. Meanwhile, I was developing relationships, deepening my faith, having babies, repenting of my sins, getting counseling, traveling, visiting loved ones, burying loved ones, and working towards a masters degree. It's been a full few years. And while I was doing all this, God was working in all those details, getting me ready to stand on this bridge.
So you see, it's no surprise to God that I'm standing there. He's been planning my position there for quite some time.
The second thing God has shared with me is the purpose for standing there. You see, sometimes others need to see that someone else went before them and lived to see another day, to find the courage themselves to also step out into the scary unknown. The purpose for me being there has nothing to do with me, but those who are on the opposites sides, needing to find the courage to cross. Maybe they're thinking, "If she can cross, so can I."
The last thing God told me about this middle-place assignment I'm in is my posture on the bridge. As I'm standing there, both of my arms are extended wide open to either side. Who needs to see my hands and take a hold of one of them, to find the courage to cross the bridge? A second part of my posture has to do with my lack of holding on to anything. I'm not grasping for the railing, and I'm certainly not grasping for thin air out of fear I might fall. I'm simply not moving. I'm sure about my posture, purpose, and the plan for why I'm there. No need to tremble.
If you're standing on either side of this gully, looking at me standing out on this bridge, I want you to know a few things.
You can do it. You can get over your fear, and take a step forward. There's healing on the other side. I promise. It won't be easy.. You might shake a lot on that bridge as you cross. But you'll feel so good to reach the other side when you did. And also, you can always turn around and go back to where you came from if you want to, although you won't be the same person anymore, so be aware of that. Once you've seen the other side, your eyes will be open to a whole side of the gully you never explored before.
Secondly, if you need help, I'm standing there waiting. Let me help. I want to.
And if you think this is all ridiculous and you'd never meet me out there if your life depended on it, I want you to remember you're a child of God who sees all, knows all, and created all. Every single detail of your life is known to Him. He's working out your details, even in this moment. And if you see me on this bridge, it's possible He brought you into my life for a reason. Because you need to grab one of my hands and let me help you get to the other side? Or maybe you need to linger in the middle with me a little bit. That's ok, too. I'm comfortable (although a little lonely) out here. It makes no sense why I am so ok with being out here, but I have a deep peace in this place.
And I'll be here to pray for you, and point you back to the One who created you, loves you, and wants you to make it to the other side, and back again, in one piece. Safe and sound.
He never calls us out into the deep to drown us, but to grow us, to make us stronger, and help us return to our safe ground again better than when we left it.
"Those from among you will rebuild the ancient ruins;
You will raise up the age-old foundations;
And you will be called the repairer of the breach,
The restorer of the streets in which to dwell." - Isaiah 52:18 (emphasis mine)
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| Alaska, 2018 with my 3 year-old daughter. We've been practicing for this posture longer than I ever imagined. |
