I clambered up the hundred plus steps to the top of the tower. Now with my feet resting against the gate, I waited for it to open. My heart pounded not only from the climb but the anticipation of the moment I would be swinging mid-air.
I explained, in the Art of Letting Go, how hard it is to release what we hold. We feel vulnerable.
When we do let go, this act of faith feels good…for a while. However, when the weeks tick by and we’re still suspended in the air with no safe landing in sight, what then?
I sit writing these words from the comfort of our home. I feel brave packing up our belongings and putting them into storage. But when I’m frustrated with living in a rental apartment where I can’t snuggle in my own bed, I might not feel so great.
At that point, I’ll look back and question whether we’ve done the right thing. I’ll look longingly at my friends with their mementos and family photos displayed around their homes. I might even regret my decision.
I know I’ll be prone to clutch at whatever comes my way. It seems more natural to hold on to anything rather than have open hands waiting for the best thing.
Yet, I discovered a lesson we can learn when we clench our hands and close our hearts in fear instead of being brave with unfurled fingers and an receptive soul.
Dwell, is the first word in the opening devotional written by Lucinda Seacrest McDowell, my friend, in her newest book.
I latched onto this word easily because, in my mind, dwell morphs into dwelling place—four walls and a roof. It symbolizes security—remember the three little pigs? Well, perhaps they’re not a good example.
Where is home? Asked a friend recently. His wife groaned. His daughter complained: “No Dad, we don’t want to talk about that again.” They recently moved from England to Texas.
But, I knew why the question came up.
I’ve stood astride the Atlantic for many years, like a giant with one foot on the tiny island of the United Kingdom and the other foot resting on the east coast of the United States of America, and I’ve asked that question a million times.
Two years into my straddling, someone labeled me a woman without a home, so to dwell is upmost in my mind.
Throughout the Bible God calls His people to dwell with Him constantly. He offers us a refuge and shelter. ~ Lucinda Secrest McDowell, Dwelling Places
Ah, so a home is not about a physical location. It’s about living with God when we’re feeling vulnerable. He provides us with the safety for which we yearn. Dwelling is about settling down and being secure with him.
But, I learned more. To dwell is to focus says the author of Dwelling Places.
And that’s what we must do. When we’re nervous because we have no firm plans in place, we must whisper: “Lord, I know you have good plans for me.”
When the doubts creep in, don’t give them the space to grow in your mind. Stamp them out. Instead, shout: “God, I know you have the best in store for me.”
As I swung through the open gate and saw the ground way below me, I didn’t need to fear.
I let go of the bar, spread my arms wide and I screamed—with a nervous delight.
I didn’t fall.
A strong harness wrapped around my body and thighs held me tight and kept me securely attached to the zip line.
And so, you too have a lifeline holding you tight and you can cry out with the thrill: “Lord, you keep my way secure.” Psalm 18:32
Where do you need to have courage in your mid-air act?