Journey

Along life's journey there are many towns, and villages, locations if you will. Often they are appealing, or look good at the time, and in among themselves are harmless. But if one spends a lot of time at one spot, the culture and influences of that location begins to become part of the fabric of who we are. This influence can be a good one, or it can be bad. Many times people spend way too long in a specific location, wasting away their life at the local carnival, or fun house. They begin to see nothing else but the funny mirrors and begin to believe what they see as the real thing, or the roller coasters where it is nothing but quick cheap thrills. They lose track of the road that leads them further, deeper. For a long period of my life, I was stuck, I let the distractions of the cotton candy and exciting rides get in the way of my true purpose.



Then came a time where the theme park closed, and I cried out to God and said "Why have you put me in this position?". I was then presented with two options. The first being to simply cross the street and go to the other amusement park or to continue down the path that was laid out for me at my birth. So began another portion of my journey, a long lonely dusty dry walk with no end in sight. All I could see was barren waste land, tumble weeds and cacti. A few faint echoing voices cried out to me, but the swirling birds of death flew over head, their screeches drowning out all sound. Yet inside I knew the way, I knew that I was going down the path that was intended for me. After travelling along this path, the hot sun soon turned to night. The road up a head was pitch black. All I could see was the 2 feet of road in front of my feet, at times I would stub my toe on a rock that I didn't know was there, or I would stop and rest on the shoulder. I continued on through out the night, putting one aching foot in front of the other, just trying to get to the next stop.



A few hours later, day break hit the eastern sky and I was able to catch a small glimpse of an oasis. I altered my path a bit and walked towards this locale. I didn't completely understand why I was brought to this place, some of it was familiar, other parts very different. There was fresh water there, and the light around the spot was brilliant and glowing. I tried to stretch and look down past this stop, but I was blinded by the light and couldn't make out anything because of the wave of heat coming off the ground. I knew I was all alone, but there was a presence here that made me continuously check over my shoulder but made me feel welcome. At points I would shout "Anyone here?" but all that I heard was the echo of my own question, mocking me for my attempt to understand my surroundings. I knew inside this was the place I needed to be for the next season of my life, I'm wasn't sure for how long, but I knew whatever I did here would prosper. There were also remnants of when other people had stopped here before, but nothing about it felt foreign. As I looked around I came across a parchment of paper with a scripture verse written on it.

Psalm 1:3 (NIV):

He is like a tree planted by streams of water,
which yields its fruit in season
and whose leaf does not wither.
Whatever he does prospers.

Even though I knew I was to be here, I kept looking down the road hoping to catch a glimpse of what was waiting, but every time I looked my eyes would hurt and I would have to look away. So I consigned, pitched a tent and began to labour away on what was there, trying to do the next right thing. There were times while labouring in the oasis I felt the need to go for a swim, but I was scared to jump in. What if the water was cold? What if I had forgotten how to swim? I would wade in to my ankles, then jump out. The next time I would go up to my knees, then run the other way. Then came a time where I had to decide to either stay a smelly dirty mess or wash myself clean. I enjoyed the stench, it was comforting, it was familiar, it was the ways I had been for so long. But then came the reflection in the crystal water, had I really become what I was looking at? Was I really this out of shape? Where did those scars come from? I didn't know I was bleeding from there! I broke down and cried, cried till I felt that no more tears could flow, so much that my eyes felt like there were put there to produce water and not to show me the world.



I knew, I knew that I knew that I knew... there was only one option, there was only one way, I couldn't choose to not enter the water and I had to be cleaned. So I dove in, head first. Oh that feeling of the weight of my past lifting off my shoulders, being left behind, the dirt was washing away, the scars were beginning to heal themselves. I would glance back to look at the dirt coming off, but the water was so clean that it just disapeared instantly and no remnants of it remained. When I came out of the pool a white robe was waiting for me, along with a list of some sort and a pair of binoculars. So I put on the robe and picked up the binoculars and used them to look down the road. All I could see was the end, this confused me, why was I only able to see the very end. I had been praying for so long just to see the next part of the road. As I continued to stare, I saw the future, I saw myself but I didn't recognize me... but I knew in my heart that it could be no one else. I continued to watch from afar the scene continouing to onfold before me, then it ended, the binoculars disapated in my hands, yet that image was forever burned in my minds eye. I knew what it meant, I knew what I had to do. Everything finally made sense. After I had processed what all this was beginning to mean, I looked down at the list. It was written in my own hand writting, yet I didn't remember authoring such things. It was a simple "to do" list, things I needed to take care of, things I needed to apologize for, things I needed to rid myself of.



Now begins the next stretch of my journey, the preparations have begun. The momentum of the work will build like a snowball, oh so small at the start, but with a good core and some sticky snow, it will grow. It will get so large that I'll hardly be able to contain it, but it will be powerfull and create waves, and leave a path behind it where people will say "Something came this way and it was good".


I continue to pray two things. Lord, keep me humble. Lord, strip away my pride.

As I reflected upon the moment a small whisper of a voice hits the wind. I could barely hear it, yet I knew it was there. The words... so simple. "My Child, I am pleased".