I have this looming deadline of my plane ticket to Atlanta this weekend, which for whatever weird reason is making it hard to focus on packing and cleaning and all the other preparations I have left. So I thought writing would help with that.
A couple of weeks ago (which have flown by insanely fast) I mentioned receiving visions at training camp. I want to talk about the first one today, one that made me feel at home with people who were at that point still technically strangers.
But first, the backstory: during a bible study a few years ago, we ended with a few minutes of guided meditation. I can’t remember the exact words our leader spoke over us, but I think she asked us to imagine ourselves in a safe place. Somehow, my mind went to the famous footprints in the sand poem.
I saw myself walking with God on the beach (which if you know me is a big deal because I despise walking through sand). After a while, we came to a house on a cliff and said our goodbyes, me going up to the “safe place” of the house, and He continuing to walk along the beach.
I hadn’t thought about that meditation in a long time. Then, on one of the first days of camp, we had an hour of dedicated time to write out and reflect on past losses and pains. Towards the end, when bullet points were coming to me more slowly, I simply sat with God and marveled at the beauty of the woods around me. If I remember correctly, it was then that I was reminded of the magic of that moment of meditation, and God began adding onto my vision.
We were walking together down the beach again, only this time, God didn’t walk me home. Instead, when I reached the house, I turned the other way, towards the ocean.
There, waiting for me on the shore, was a boat. I got in and set sail with my grand sense of adventure. It wasn’t long before I felt very alone in a big, wide ocean. The beach and my safe home were far away and God hadn’t left me a map or anything (not that I’m any good with directions!). My stomach sank. With the wind behind me, pushing me further out to sea, I did the only thing that made me feel safe – I dropped my anchor.
And then, I saw the first boat.
Soon there were more and more, a whole fleet of boats, each one of them carrying one of my squad mates, far from their own beaches.
For me, this was such a powerful statement to trust that I had my R-squad family ready to sail alongside me, to remind me of God’s goodness and provision when times get tough or weird or scary. To remind me to be open when training camp got tough, weird, and scary.
All of us were – are – being called, being sent out of our comfort zones and onto our little boats, not knowing where we are going or what we’re going to do when we get there. But we are anchored in the knowledge that we are going together, and we are going to heed our Lord’s call to be fishers of men.
