It’s our last day at El Rancho. Our last day of New
Zealand ministry. We’re preparing for a Maori
farewell ceremony – us women folk have been preparing food and decorating the
dining hall while the menfolk have been cooking the meal. With most of the prep
done already, it feels like a pretty chill (easy) day.
 
I knew when I got up this morning that I needed some real
time along with God, because from tomorrow onward, the chances of finding that
with any consistency are going to be slim. Since I haven’t exactly been
spending the precious amount of time that I’ve been needing to anyway, the
conclusion seemed inevitable.
 
I went to the beach.
 
And as I walked along the edge of the water with my jandals
(flip-flops) dangling from my fingers and Ross King singing in my ear about
crushing idols, I realized the waves were starting to roll in up to my
mid-calf. I started to readjust my path so the water was hitting around my
ankles instead…
 
That’s when the voice of God whispered in my ear.
 
Why are you so afraid
to go deeper?
 
It’s not that He doesn’t know the answer to the question –
He does. As the song goes, He sees the depths of my soul and He loves me the
same.
 
The issue is that I don’t know. It’s that I don’t really
want to ask myself the question and come to the heart of the answer. Exploring
that far into the darkness in my heart, exposing what resides there, is too
hard. It all feels so much easier to let everything stay how it is and skim the
surface while trying not to stir everything up.
 
As I continued walking, I went deeper into the water. But
instead of answering the question, I started poking at old wounds, pointing out
all the people, places, and things I’ve let rest at the point of digging and
finding the substance beneath the surface.
 
If leaving things along doesn’t resolve anything, then
poking around in such a fashion is probably worse. It doesn’t just leave you
with no solution, it brings you to your knees and tells you there’s no hope for
one, either. This is what you’ve always done. It’s what you’ll always do. Why
bother trying to make things any different?
 
Sitting on this park bench, writing it all out doesn’t
answer the question, either. But seeing the ink spill across the paper and
knowing that in a few minutes I’ll be opening up my computer and typing it out
to be posted and read by the world is cementing a couple of things in my head.
 
  1. Staying in this place isn’t an option.
    I didn’t come on The World Race to pop a squat and watch tremendous growth
    happen around me while nothing changes in my heart. If life were perfect
    where I was, I would have no reason to seek something else out.
  2. Whatever this fear resting inside of me
    is about, there is a desire just as strong as the one to leave things
    alone to seek out the answer to the question.
    I’m not really content
    to sit on the fence. I want to live in the perfection God created me for.
    If I don’t pursue the answer, I don’t think I’ll ever get there.
 
And this is one journey I don’t want to miss.