It is dark in here, and Joy is fast asleep in the other half of our room. A string of little lights twinkle through the mosquito net, dangling their legs over the net’s hanging wooden frame. The ceiling fan is laboring above me, and a floor fan is oscillating to the left, like two servants feverishly fanning a dainty princess. (The dainty princess feelings coincide with the electric being on right now.)
It’s a new year.
A new year for doing the same old things. Teeth brushing. Nail clipping. Breakfast making. Floor mopping. Friend forgiving. Grace receiving. Hymn singing.
A new year for doing new things. Meeting new people. Seeing new places. Learning new things. Making new habits. Finding new favorites. Reading new books. Discovering God in new ways.
{the electric just went out}
A year for new opportunities and filled with days that we have never lived before and will never live again.
Seeing we are finishing January, I am grateful to have already discovered a few precious gems hidden in this year.
Last week one of my friends sent me a message: I want to send you a package, what’s your address? Now, I can hardly imagine a person who wouldn't want to dance for delight upon hearing words like this. And if you’ve been living overseas even for just a few months, the thought can be overwhelmingly exciting that someone back home has caringly put together a little pile of goodies for you.
In the midst of that jittery “let me see how fast I can type out my address!” I began to worry. We will only remain in this location for another month. What if the package doesn’t come? What if my dear friend goes to all the laborious love of buying and writing, paying the costly price for postage, dreaming of my joy ...and then it doesn’t show up in time? The mail here tends to be quite unpredictable. Sometimes it gets here in only two weeks. Other times, it can take a ridiculous six months. How to know? I began to feel a sick feeling in my tummy. What if I have to go home knowing that there is a gloriously special package for me somewhere in the tortoise-style mail system, waiting someone’s whim to send it to where I....was?
After numerous hours of intermittently staring at this mental Trojan horse I decided I needed to talk to my friend. “It might not get here...it’s risky...I want you to know.”
Her response picked up the Trojan horse and transformed it into a Statue of Liberty.
“Hi Hannah! I feel like I’m to take the risk. The package should be on its way as of this morning! And I really hope it gets to you in time. But if it doesn’t, we have the happy feeling of knowing that we risked, and we tried.”
I stood stunned as I soaked in the words of my friend. Liberated! Even if the package doesn’t get there in time, she said we actually can have the happy feeling of knowing that we risked, and we tried. I wonder how many times I live imprisoned to fear of failure and loss when I could be liberated to restfully risk and try? Too many times, I’m afraid, I labeled something as a failure instead of celebrating it as something worth risking for.
Esther decided to risk and try. I wish I could hear an audio recording, or better yet, see a video of Queen Esther sitting on, perhaps, a cushion-couch on an expensive Persian rug in the Shushan palace. I can only imagine what must have gone through her head as she processed what she was about to do. “I don’t know what the end result will be. But I do know that I don’t want to live ever after this week with the sad knowledge that I didn’t even try. Fear of failure and dying shall not keep me back from risking my life to save my race. No matter what happens, I will be OK, knowing that at least I risked; at least I tried. If I die, I just die.” Lord, give me the faith of Esther! The faith that enables me to trustingly risk, with YOU.
I remember distinctly one day when we were newly married and hiking in the Smoky Mountains. The rhododendron was bouncing in the slight breeze, and fragrant pine needles covered the incline of the dirt trail. We had only been hiking for fifteen minutes when we rounded the bend and were almost plowed over by a family of hikers who could've played Timorous and Mistrust in Pilgrim's Progress. "Watch out! There's a rattlesnake sitting in the middle of the pathway ahead!" "A big one!" "If I were you I would turn around!" And with that, they continued their hasty retreat back the trail we had just hiked. A shiver of terror flitted across my backbone as I looked up into my hubby's face, glad to be holding his hand. "What should we do?" I wondered breathlessly. Rattlesnake on the trail? Of course we shouldn't proceed! He was probably sitting there, just hideously waiting for someone to walk past so he could strike in pent up anger at who-knows-what. Yes, indeed, what a dangerous rattlesnake he must be! Stalwart man my husband is, he just looked straight ahead and said, "Let's continue our hike." "But Sweetheart, what if there is a rattlesnake and he is all angry and wanting to get someone...and how would you kill it, and what if it would bite one of us?" My husband said a quick prayer and looked at his wife. "I think we should keep hiking. That rattlesnake they saw was just as scared of them as they were of him. He is long gone into the shrubbery. I don't think we will see him. Are you willing to take my hand and let me lead you past the place where they saw the snake? I believe I can handle it if we do see a rattlesnake." Trembling and scared, the girl who had never before seen a real rattlesnake followed the man who grew up in Tennessee. We walked, and I must say, I didn't notice much of the rhododendrons for a while because I was intently searching for scaly coils along the path. Thirty minutes later, we arrived safely back at our little green car. "We didn't see any rattlesnakes!" I exulted. My husband smiled. He knew I had just gained an important experience and learned a big lesson: Trust me. I can lead you straight past something you fear, all the way back to the car. You risked, and you tried. You trusted, and you survived. Ah. Thank God for how my husband teaches me to trust Him.
I remember distinctly one day when we were newly married and hiking in the Smoky Mountains. The rhododendron was bouncing in the slight breeze, and fragrant pine needles covered the incline of the dirt trail. We had only been hiking for fifteen minutes when we rounded the bend and were almost plowed over by a family of hikers who could've played Timorous and Mistrust in Pilgrim's Progress. "Watch out! There's a rattlesnake sitting in the middle of the pathway ahead!" "A big one!" "If I were you I would turn around!" And with that, they continued their hasty retreat back the trail we had just hiked. A shiver of terror flitted across my backbone as I looked up into my hubby's face, glad to be holding his hand. "What should we do?" I wondered breathlessly. Rattlesnake on the trail? Of course we shouldn't proceed! He was probably sitting there, just hideously waiting for someone to walk past so he could strike in pent up anger at who-knows-what. Yes, indeed, what a dangerous rattlesnake he must be! Stalwart man my husband is, he just looked straight ahead and said, "Let's continue our hike." "But Sweetheart, what if there is a rattlesnake and he is all angry and wanting to get someone...and how would you kill it, and what if it would bite one of us?" My husband said a quick prayer and looked at his wife. "I think we should keep hiking. That rattlesnake they saw was just as scared of them as they were of him. He is long gone into the shrubbery. I don't think we will see him. Are you willing to take my hand and let me lead you past the place where they saw the snake? I believe I can handle it if we do see a rattlesnake." Trembling and scared, the girl who had never before seen a real rattlesnake followed the man who grew up in Tennessee. We walked, and I must say, I didn't notice much of the rhododendrons for a while because I was intently searching for scaly coils along the path. Thirty minutes later, we arrived safely back at our little green car. "We didn't see any rattlesnakes!" I exulted. My husband smiled. He knew I had just gained an important experience and learned a big lesson: Trust me. I can lead you straight past something you fear, all the way back to the car. You risked, and you tried. You trusted, and you survived. Ah. Thank God for how my husband teaches me to trust Him.
We can’t know yet what will happen with that anticipated package. We can't always know when we will be trusted to see the rattlesnakes and when we will be asked to bravely hike past their haunts, overcoming fear with trust. We can’t know yet what all will happen with this year. But I would like to have this mindset: by God’s grace, I will I take up the opportunities that come this year to follow my Lord at the sake of risk. I will risk for worthy causes, in trust. And even if I fail, at least I tried. Even if I see rattlesnakes, the God of the universe is holding my hand.
May this new year be a wonderful mix for you of both new and familiar as you walk with the Lord and seek to know Him more. May the risks you take be steps of faith and obedient trust. May He guide you safely past every rattlesnake. And may you receive many wonderful surprise “packages” of grace and joy along the way!
2 comments:
God loves us and when we grow in this Love we can abandon ourselves and fears for The Hope that God has in store for us!
Thank you for sharing this!
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