the River

The river snaked his way through the canyon of this valley. The trees fighting the winter beginning to turn green. Shades of green growing up the trees, the moss reviving, grass shooting up like wildflowers, the snowdrops gently growing as the snow melts. And the river, always faithful, always running, always bringing peace. The river, so lovely.

Like lightning, His voice came as I walked along the river. 

Follow Me like you follow the river.

I stopped. I'd been following the river as I always do when I walk along rivers. I always choose the path that keeps me closest to the river, my breath catches when the path leads me away from the river, fearful it will lead me away. 

Follow Me like you follow the river.

At that moment, I was at a curve in the path, it led away from the river. I knew it was only a moment, but I didn't want to take my eyes off the river, I didn't want to lead away from the peace it offered. At that moment, fear clenched me. Because I had to turn my face, I had to rely on the memory of his face, the distance of his voice, the faithfulness of his promise. 

It was only a moment. This leg of the path was so short in comparison. What did I fear? My capacity to wander. Walking along the river, I knew I would never turn from it. But if the path led me away, if only for a moment, what if there was a fork in the road? What if I forgot about the beauty the river had to offer? What if I turned away from the river forever?

His pursuit is greater than your ability to wander ~ Lisa Bevere 

Is this true? For the first time in my life, I stumbled upon my capacity to drift away. At this crossroads, I knew I had the innate ability to walk away from the river for some other object of temporary beauty. It terrified me, nearly crippling. But I had to keep walking, I couldn't stay right here, by this part of the river. I had to move forward, leaning on the promise that the river wouldn't end before I saw it again, falling into the hope that as I listened to it, it was still there. So I moved forward. No longer could I see the river, but I heard it. Was it enough?

His pursuit is greater than your ability to wander ~ Lisa Bevere

I have the capacity to drift from my faith. It is inside of me. Overwhelmed by this fear and trepidation, shocked by where my heart had landed, paralyzed by the place that my thoughts had led me, afraid at how far I was from Him, I am leaning heavily on the promise that his pursuit of me is greater than my ability to wander. 

I am wandering. Drifting. Losing my footing. My feet have led me to a place of disbelief and doubt. My mind is racing with thoughts of the world. I wrestle with the evidence I see in the world of pain and suffering and I attempt to compare that to a good Father who pursues us. A kind Lover who recklessly follows us.

Because there are two of me. There is the one that looks around at the tragic circumstanes and demands to God, "where are you? What are you doing? Do you even care?" The one where doubts rage like a wildfire, consuming all of me. My ability to wander is bigger than anything I've ever known.

There is the one that sees his kind hand. The one who sees Jesus when a friend weeps in my arms, who sees his tender heart in the gift of friendship or someone texts me and asks to go for breakfast before Church when I tell myself I'm never going back.

The first is my ability to wander, the second is his pursuit of me. 

How undeserving this heart, how gracious is His. 

I will choose the River. But in moments when I don't, when I choose to wander, I will come back. His pursuit of me will remind me of the river, stir in my memories of the peace and joy of the river. I have chosen to follow Him and so, as He leads me along the River, no matter what arises in my path, he remains faithful, gently calling as the River does, growing louder with the waterfalls, calming my heart in the hurricanes. I will follow the River.

Oh, how undeserving this heart, how gracious is His.