At the Cross

Back in the campfire woods, there is an old, somewhat rugged white cross. As I walk through the trails, the farther I go from the neighborhood-the more engulfed I am by the surrounding nature-the closer I get to that cross. Its presence, clarity, and size grow with each step I take until I find myself at the feet of that cross.

The paint may be chipping and the wood full of dirt. I know its seen snow and wind and rain, as well as the bright, cheery sun. It’s heard the praises of hundreds of children, experienced countless campfires, and listened as facilitators and counselors poured out their hearts. It’s experienced the joys and pain and trials of the campers and staff over the years, and it stands firm as a symbol of our Lord Jesus Christ’s love and sacrifice for us.

Many days as I walk through the woods, the lyrics of the song Sweetly Broken by Jeremy Riddle play through my head. They are as follows:

“At the cross you beckoned me. You draw me gently to my knees, and I am lost for words-so lost in love. I’m sweetly broken, wholly surrendered.”

As we spend time with Jesus at the foot of His cross, He will begin to touch us and move in us profoundly. He will begin to heal our hearts and refresh our spirits.

What really hit me today, however, was what happened as I left the cross. I continued the loop around the campfire, and I periodically turned around to look at the cross. At first, it was still big-a prominent sight. Then it began to lose its size and lucidity. Soon enough, I couldn’t see it at all. The trees and the distance separated me from its view. I moved off the path-to the right and then to the left-but I saw nothing. It was out of view.

So it is in my life at times. I slowly move farther from the cross, frequently looking back to see if it’s still there-if Christ is still moving in my life and healing my heart. He’s still there, but I keep distancing myself. His overwhelming power fades and shrinks in my eyes, but it isn’t enough to stop me from walking. Eventually, I’m to the point that I can’t see it or feel it at all. But I have so much to do, and the busyness, the people; the buildings are calling me to get out of the woods. I’ve spent enough of my time away from the world.

That’s what I tell myself at least. But why do I move from the cross, from the only One who has the power to save me? What does the world have to offer that is worth anything? All I have to do to fix this is turn around. Stop the running and the hiding. Turn around, Danielle. Turn around! Run with all you have back to the One who heals and saves.

Spend some more time at that cross, and let yourself be filled by the One who knows you best and died to save you.   James 4:8 says, “Come near to God, and He will come near to you.” Take the time today to come near to God. I promise it will be worth the effort.

Father,

 May we the time each day to stand at the foot of Your cross. May Your love and the sacrifice You made hit us in a profound way. May we realize at the core of who we are just how much You love us and how much that means. May we be brought to our knees, lost in love and wholly surrendered to Your will, our Lord. Give us strength and a desire to keep running back to You, our Father. Draw us near to You, and allow us to be healed and filled by Your love.

Snow

I realize it is now almost Spring (Halelujah!), but here's another analogy I wrote several weeks ago:

            According to Webster, snow is defined as, precipitation in the form of small white ice crystals formed directly from the water vapor of the air at a temperature of less than 32°F.

Well, I would say they definitely got the “temperature of less than 32°F” part right. It’s freezing outside! It is a refreshing cold though, and it most definitely makes me grateful for hot chocolate or coffee and a nice, warm blanket. How often I fail to express my gratitude for such luxuries as a nice, warm place to stay and a comfortable bed...so, thank you Lord for this heated office in which I now sit and type.

            As I walk around camp and trudge through the mid-calf deep snow I can’t help but admire it. It’s so white and pure and beautiful. It covers all of the mud and dirt that was there before-trading mess and muck for a layer of glorious, pure magnificence. Especially before it has been stepped on by animals and people, the sight is breath-taking.

In so many ways, our Father in Heaven is like a beautiful snowfall in our lives. He takes the mud and the muck-the impurities, the holes and scars and brokenness-and He covers them with a layer of beautiful, pure snow. He showers it so generously that we cannot even see the dirt anymore-it’s all covered up by His love. How insanely awesome is that?

            The snow-covered ground is perfect until it gets trampled on. We too, like the ground, get trampled by life. We are stepped on by people and temptations and the various hardships of our lives. It’s painful, and it ruins the perfection of the snow that has fallen. The mud starts to show up again. And even worse, the snow begins to melt. It leaves the ground even more muddy and mucky than before. I think that we have times when we allow ourselves to fall away from God, and when that happens in our lives the snow-the protection and perfection that come from our Savior-begins to melt. We are left in the mess, and our imperfections and inadequacies are made even more evident than before.

            The snow is also cool because it comes to us in various intensities. Sometimes, the snow just gently falls to the Earth-sometimes it comes in the form of a blizzard. Sometimes the snowfall is steady, and other times it comes in spurts.

Father,

I thank You for allowing me to be in a place that is surrounded by Your glorious nature. Your fingerprints are all over this place, and I am in awe of Your creation. Thank You for giving me the opportunity to absorb this beauty.

Wind

A brief explanation of this post:
God is everywhere, and He reveals Himself to us in a variety of ways. Recently, much of what He has shown me is in the form of analogies.  This is one of them-I wrote it about a month ago:


Today as I walked around camp, I couldn’t help but notice the wind. It was strong today, and I could see it moving tree branches and feel it brush past my skin. I know that wind is often described as an analogy of faith. You can’t see it, but you can feel and view its effects. 

As I continued to walk, I kept thinking about the wind. The wind can be powerful-intense enough to knock you off your feet, and it can be soothing-a refreshing breeze on a warm day. Sometimes the air feels so still that you can’t feel the presence of the wind, but it’s always faintly with you.  Without wind, a kite would not fly. Without wind, tornadoes and hurricanes wouldn’t exist.  When the wind is blowing from behind you, it makes walking much easier. IF you are fighting the wind, however, it can be nearly impossible to keep moving forward.

So it is with us and Christ’s movement in our lives. Sometimes the movement of the Lord is undeniable-we can see things changing and moving. Sometimes He comes with gale force strength, all but knocking us over. Sometimes His power seems to destroy---but we know eventually we will see it’s because He had something even more wonderful in mind. Sometimes He comes like a refreshing breeze on a hot, dry day. And sometimes, we can’t feel Him. We can’t see His effect unless we look really closely-taking care to seek His will and His hand moving on our lives.  Follow His will and His path, and He will make the steps easier. As Jesus says in Matthew 11:30, “For my yoke is easy and my burden is light”. Try to go your own way, however and you will be in for some resistance.

Father,

As we think about wind today and watch the branches move in response to the wind, may we be reminded of Your power and movement in our lives. May we have attentive eyes and spirits to see and hear as You move in our lives. I pray that we may trust You in whatever intensity You come into our lives. May we follow Your leading and be willing to go and do whatever You ask of us. We love You, and we thank You for always being present and moving-whether noticeable to us or not-in our lives and in the lives of those around us.

Reflection: a thought, idea, or opinion formed or a remark made as a result of meditation

The past 10 weeks (living by myself) = LOTS of time to meditate. Hence, some reflections to share and the start of this blog.

I'm currently learning how to be a grown up. I get to live all by myself for the first time. I'm responsible for cooking my own meals and cleaning and shopping and not burning down the house. You know, all that good stuff. I'll be honest though. My days are still filled with PB&J's and coloring pictures. I may still have a lot to learn...it's a process, right?

So, here's to that process. There are lessons to be learned, mishaps to be had, and adventures to find.