An excerpt from my journal during my stay at El Shaddai, Swaziland.
Most people seek a safe harbor; in fact, most people need one from time to time. I do not think I am like most people though. I drop anchor in my safe harbor and that is where I reside. I keep a tight ship. Clean, sturdy, organized and well fitted. There is just one problem, A ship was designed to sail, not to sit. More often than not I find myself in a state of refusal to leave the security and assurance of the coast. I elegantly splash about in the midst of dinghies and row boats safe and secure from the dread of the open ocean not realizing that I am still sinking. Sinking in my doubts and the internal struggle of mu mind. The fear of the unknown methodically crushes against the hull of my heart and the winds and waves of possible failure threaten to capsize my desires.
My heart and more importantly my captain long for the open ocean though. What man is satisfied listening to the lapping of waves against the side of a ship when there is a chance to unfurl the sails of possibility and weight the anchors of assumption and old habits and set a course for somewhere, anywhere, other than the harbor. Yes, there is risk and danger beyond the safety and comfort of the promontory, but there is also the chance of life and adventure and beauty.. Choosing to stay where I have lived for so long means I do not risk, I do not trust and I do not have to feel. My hope is rooted in my ability to steer clear of all danger, risk, pain and lack of absolute assurance. Therein lies the terrible reality, did you catch it? It is that damn word again…”my.” Within the pseudo safety of my tiny, created little harbor I have no true need of an actual captain. Sure, He takes up residence on board and is even involved with many decisions and facets of daily life but when it comes right down to it a captain is only necessary when this vessel is underway.
Thus, I am left with some decisions to make. Do I trust the tossing opinions of the voices of my mind or do I continue to step into this sphere of trusting my Father’s heart towards me? Do I continue in the relative ease and supposed safety of my own creation or do I plot a course for something new? Will I stand on the deck of this ship waiting for the wind and currents to make sense and perfectly align or will I trust the ability of my Captain to navigate me through them? Should a storm develop on the far horizon will I turn back in fear of will I ride it out? I literally pray to God that I am not wrong because in truth I can neither sail nor swim, and I am terrified of drowning. However, if I must drown let it be in the open ocean far away from safety and assurance, and let it be with the knowledge that I chose to trust my Captain and leave the harbor.
Until next time…
MB
