These little steps of mine

In so many areas of my life, I am eager to run full stride. To find a rhythm that allows me to syncopate what is in and around me. Maybe this is part of why I love running . . . allowing my body to let loose on the pavement, pound away at my questions or insecurities of the day, and return home sweaty but sure. I was raised with a sound work ethic and dreamers inclination, so often this finds me believing that if I just work hard enough I can achieve, attain and accomplish whatever it is I've set my mind to.

(Enter adulthood i.e. . . reality.)

While yes, this belief is in part true and has served me well, there are experiences where no amount of hard work or determination can speed the process along. This is a hard truth for dreamers like me, and is perhaps why algebra as an 8th grader or studying Chinese as a late twenty-something were identity-altering experiences. It seemed that no matter how hard I worked, formulas, equations, or verb tenses would not instantaneously appear in my mind or pour out of my mouth. These things took time, patience, and perseverance. 

Motherhood I'm finding to be no different. While I'm savoring each moment of Brooks' development, I do not savor the "working out" of my own salvation per say. I want to snap my fingers and have identity issues solved and neatly tucked away. I want to wake up and instantly know how to balance ministry and motherhood. I want to wiggle my nose "Bewitched" style and have beautifully mastered my home, meals, and relationships. (Experienced mothers everywhere snicker). 

As I've wrestled with the reality that just like Brooks my own development is in fact a process, several passages of Scripture have come to mind about how Christ calls us to move. While my heart is eager to run, so often we see the children of Scripture take small step after small step. I can't imagine the agony of thousands of tiny steps in dessert sand by the wilderness wanderers, or the hopeless shuffle of those waiting and watching for the Messiah.  

But then I think of the children of Israel at the edge of the Jordan waiting to move towards Jericho and their promised homeland. They're commanded to "come to the brink". Yikes. We see in Joshua 3 that "when the soles of the feet of the priests bearing the ark of the Lord . . . shall rest in the waters of the Jordan, the waters of the Jordan shall be cut off from flowing, and the waters coming down from above shall stand in one heap." What a first step that must of been. One small step, stepping from the brink. Waiting, expecting, hoping, praying . . . that the waters would still. Not wave a magic wand, dance around or make a fuss, just take a step. A small, wholly trusting step. 

And then I think of Peter. Rash, often foolish Peter. So eager to encounter Jesus that his small physical step had him walking on water. Sure, he sank like a rock as soon as he saw the wind, but he took a step and experienced the enabling and saving power of Jesus. 

I'm reminded that we are called to step out, never knowing if the miraculous or the mundane will ensue. But I believe that it's in the faith of these tiny, often monotonous steps, that the God of the universe meets us. We never know what these little steps of ours will result in . . . dry ground to conquer strongholds, logic-defying intimacy with our Lord, who knows? I just know that my heart is so often ready to run or leap, and just skip over all the little steps along the way. Funny, how the Kingdom of God so seldom works that way. Yes, we are often called to make bold leaps into the unknown, but how do you think the Lord brings us to that brink? Tiny step after tiny step, in which we are proving that we are faithful to follow. 

And yet, also as those who carry the very presence of God in our midst, I want to be like David who erupted in dance and worship after six measly steps. Six steps that proved God was true to his promise to bless and secure those His presence dwelt among.

I'm not sure where you are today, but I'm striving to be faithful with these little steps of mine. Faithful to follow, so that when I come to my own brink of faith, I have developed the faith to simply leap.