One of my favorite places in all of Kansas City is the Nelson-Atkins Museum of Art. As a preschooler in the ’80s I walked those gray marble halls to my first art class in the museum’s lower level and still, to this day, wonder whether that waxy security guard just might be real. A trip to the museum isn’t complete until I stand face to canvas before my favorite painting, Claude Monet’s Boulevard des Capucines (1873-74). It depicts a city view of wintry Paris…(continue reading HERE)
Nearly a year and a half ago in April of 2015 I couldn’t sleep, so I sat up in bed, grabbed my laptop and wrote with only the glow of the screen lighting my dark bedroom. What I wrote then was a belief, an image in my mind of a journey and the faith it takes to step into the unknown. Fast forward to July 2016 where I stood waiting my turn to cross this bridge dangling hundreds of feet above a rainforest floor 2000 miles away from home and all things familiar. I had no idea the fiction piece I wrote back in 2015 for an audience of amazing women would be my factual life today. Truth? I’m mid-bridge. It’s swaying. My knuckles are white from holding on for dear life, but I’m moving forward one faith step at a time and I’m constantly praying, ‘Lord, help me run.’ (Read the original post below)
WEDNESDAY, APRIL 29, 2015
One more step and I’d be on the bridge. Am I ready? Glancing over my shoulder at the well-worn dirt path behind me I notice for the first time how wide and sure it was. Back on that smooth terrain I even ran for a time feeling swift and empowered. I saw God’s glory in the sunsets and budding daisies. I heard His creation cries in the dove’s song and sensed his presence in the cool breeze. Not long ago, a friendly traveler handed me a trail map just to make my travels easier. He’d mentioned not wanting me to have to think too much, and pointed out an easier path, but it seemed to go in circles and it proved to always take me where I didn’t want to go so I threw it aside. Today the path began to wind higher and higher as I sensed God calling me forward with every uphill stride. I couldn’t run anymore and my legs grew weary from the climb, but when I reached the top of the mountain and looked across the expanse I knew there is so much more to this journey than I had ever dared to dream. The only way to get there was by crossing the bridge. Dare I admit I don’t like heights? There, just within sight at the far end of the bridge was an illuminated path. It was narrower than the one I’d previously traveled, but its beauty was indescribably inviting. Somehow I knew it was meant for me, and I was meant to have faith in its unseen destination. I just had to cross the bridge to get there.
Taken in with the inviting splendor of this newfound journey I step forward and hear the creaking of aged wood under my feet. Noticing for the first time how high the bridge suspends over the valley and how feeble the planks are sitting on the age-old ropes, I quickly retreat back onto solid ground. The pounding of my heart quieting as I glance behind me at the old familiar comforts of the known path. I was happy enough back there, for a time. Should I just turn around and walk back down the mountain? Familiarity entices and soothes my fears. God blessed me on that journey once, I’m sure he’ll do it again. Right? My heart knew the answer before I even turned to face the bridge again. My goal isn’t to be the lifelong recipient of good gifts. Somewhere along that path my heart tasted freedom and now it wants more…more than what meets the eye. The unknown depth of my soul’s longing is to experience this journey fully surrendered to God’s wild frontier. To stop clinging to my perceived control and get on the bridge.
So I step forward, trembling inch by inch. The bridge sways in the wind and sounds of falling boards ricochet and crack in the blackened valley below. Fear calls from the depths of my soul urging me to retreat to safety. Should I go back? The answer explodes from a newly awakened space in my heart and mind. Never. I grip the rail as tight as I can and run, tripping on loose boards, hands burning from holding on so tightly, fear warning me to stop, but running…and all the way laughing for the joy of finally living.
Following Jesus is a journey. At unexpected moments, He calls us out farther and deeper than we ever imagined going, but with Him all things are possible to him who believes (Mark 9:23). Believing He is with us, his peace guarding our hearts and minds (Philippians 4:13) as we surrender every moment, even our most paralyzing fears, to Him who pours out his love for us (Romans 5:5) is our greatest adventure.
Where do you see yourself on your journey? Where do you see God? What fears lie beneath your bridge keeping you from experiencing the freedom of fully surrendering to Jesus? Where has God’s love been so evident to you along the way?
This week I wrote HERE for an awesome community of women here in KC. I’ve had various people ask if I wrote this with them in mind and I absolutely did..each of you…personally and specifically 😉
I’m hearing stories of people in seasons of new vision and calls to freedom like never before. Their journeys are all uniquely adventurous whether its a call to a new depth of faith or a trip to the Amazon to love hurting children. Each bridge is wrought with moments of fear and uncertainty, but these brave souls are running for the joy of fully and finally living. It’s an honor to run with you!