These last few months have been tough. I’ve ventured in to new areas that make me uncomfortable and scared and bone-weary, resulting in a lot of anxiety, and at times, depression. Being the get ‘er done girl that I am, my gut reaction to seasons like this is, “Ok, so what do I need to DO, God?” I can’t just let go.
Give me the formula to get back to awesome. Show me what scriptures to dwell on, what truth to grasp, what prayers to pray. Show me my error and I’ll fix it. Tell me what to think and do and I’ll do it. I will make it happen.
I was reminded last night of a poem I read years ago, back when I first started to realize what a winding road faith can be. I read it like God is speaking to me.
by Philip Booth
Lie back daughter, let your head
be tipped back in the cup of my hand.
Gently, and I will hold you.
Spread your arms wide, lie out on the stream
and look high at the gulls.
A dead-man’s float is face down. You will dive
and swim soon enough where this tidewater
ebbs to the sea.
Daughter, believe me,
when you tire on the long thrash
to your island, lie up, and survive.
As you float now, where I held you
and let go, remember when fear
cramps your heart what I told you:
lie gently and wide to the light-year
stars, lie back, and the sea will hold you.
Have you spent much time floating on water? Can you picture yourself like this child, trusting her father to hold her as she’s learning to swim, when she’s scared and tired? There’s something so freeing and relaxing about it, if we can let go of trying to keep ourselves afloat and just let the water hold us. The father reminds his daughter to look to that which is bigger than her. It’s the definition of “Be still and know.”
Know that He is there.
Nothing is wasted. Every tear is caught, and every sigh is heard.
He knows what He’s doing with us.
The way out of our wilderness is clear to Him, and He will lead us in His timing and His ways.
The places that seem the most stagnant are often the places where He is preparing us for something we cannot see.
His love will hold us, when we let go.