The Stories of Our Lives (Part Five)
This is part five in an ongoing series.
Part One: As The Story Turns
Part Two: I Don’t Have A Hallelujah
Part Three: Can You Hear What I Hear?
Part Four: Get Up, Girl!
“There I saw a stream … “
~ Ezekiel 47:1
Life can require us to take action. Times of “action” can come from a positive place … or a not so positive place. Action can come from choice or force.
Despite the birth of the action, we’re setting into motion a needed response to a dilemma or situation that needs our attention.
My husband and I were blessed to live in Colorado for a few years. I was awestruck by the picturesque beauty of the Rocky Mountains that surrounded our little town outside of Denver.
This Southern girl felt as if she were visually living in a Hallmark movie.
For my husband and me, this move was like a new beginning. Just the two of us heading off on a journey of new experiences and adventure. After thirty-six years of marriage, this move felt like we were newlyweds again, starting our life together afresh.
New home, new environment … new everything. This called for action! And I took action to make our marriage the greatest marriage that ever existed throughout the annals of time.
What did I do? I immersed myself in the things my husband loved.
Disc Golf
How that man loved disc golf. I wanted to be a part of it and set out to learn this game that so intrigued him.
I watched disc golf on YouTube, both tournaments and training videos. And then came the day we went out together to play my first round of disc golf. Yeah, it was not a pretty sight.
But Chris loved me, and what I discovered was that he wanted me with him. It didn’t mater if I could play well. He was an outstanding teacher, and he tried to coach me.
As I improved, I found I loved the game as much as he did. But mostly, I found my “action” to learn this game brought us closer and gave us time together that I treasure.
Football
Chris loved to watch football. College football was his favorite. Tennessee football, specifically. But his viewing also included the NFL.
For years I left Saturday game day to Chris and the guys. I felt that was their day, but in Colorado it was just Chris and me. More action was required.
I set out to learn everything I could about football. I learned the teams, the positions, the calls … everything I could.
The difference between a running back and a fullback and what teams were more likely to still use a fullback. I learned the quarterbacks on his favorite teams. Over time, I could determine by the players’ body shape whether a tight end or a wide receiver caught the ball (not to mention, to me their running styles are quite different—that was just how I remembered stuff).
Supercross and Motocross
Again, I learned all I could about dirt bikes and racing. Chris owned seven dirt bikes, so yeah, I felt compelled to uncover the excitement surrounding this sport.
My first attempt at riding a dirt bike ended in a crash, so retirement came early for me. But I loved watching the races with Chris and pulling for our favorite riders.
This small “action” gave us a closeness we didn’t have before. My action was not only for Chris, but for me as well. I couldn’t wait until quitting time from work to get to our favorite disc golf course. Game days and race days on the weekends became major events we planned (mostly for eats) and looked forward to.
What joyous memories I am blessed to now hold because I committed to taking action. Investing in learning disc golf, football, and dirt bike racing made me an ACTIVE participant in a part of my husband’s life I had never stepped into. My heart is full of gratitude because of action.
Action brought life and joy. Action gave depth to our relationship, and our marriage benefited.
And now, God wanted more action. But in my grief, I didn’t have the energy nor the desire to take action of any kind. But Papa God had said, “Put your feet on the floor. I have something to show you.”
Getting up, putting my feet on the floor was a spiritual act of following what my heart felt God was saying to me in my sorrow. There was no “voice of God” resounding in my little prayer closet. No, it was that same still, small, loving voice of my Papa God drawing me to him.
Discerning what the Father is speaking isn’t always clear. But this time, I knew. I just knew. There’s no describing it other than a knowing dropped into your heart. The Holy Spirit quickens God’s direction to your mind.
I put my feet on the floor, got up (yes, physically), and went immediately to get the huge Life Application Bible that Chris bought me a few years ago. I opened to the book of Ezekiel.
What?
Yeah, I know. That’s crazy, right? This book is about Ezekiel’s calling as a prophet and his commissioning as a watchman for Israel. There are warnings, judgments, wars, visions … you name it, this book is not for the faint of heart.
So why here? Why Ezekiel? I knew the moment I turned to chapter 47, where Papa God sent me. In this chapter is the one thing Israel needed to hear from God’s prophet. The one thing I needed from my Papa God …
Hope
In my life, my lowest, most desperate, most traumatic moment was when I lost my husband. Chris was everything, and I don’t care how “old fashion” that sounds. I loved that man, and our life together was a gift from God. I would do it all over again and again.
I was in a pit, and the hope I needed seemed too far outside my reach. But Papa God led me to Ezekiel
chapter 47.
Ezekiel 47 is a promissory vision of God’s restoration. In his vision, Ezekiel had a guide who brought him to the temple where he saw a stream flowing east from beneath the door. The guide leads Ezekiel into the water, and at different intervals, we see the water at his ankles, then his knees, to his waist, and then his chest, where the water was so deep he could no longer walk through it, but had to swim.
Ezekiel’s guide turns to him and says:
“Have you been watching, son of man?”
~ Ezekiel 47:6
As Ezekiel is walking back along the riverbank, he sees trees of all kinds on both sides of the river. Ezekiel had seen a tiny stream gush into a raging river flowing from the temple, through the city, into …
… The desert.
Reading this passage, I collapsed to my knees …
Then he said to me, “This river flows east through the desert into the valley of the Dead Sea. The waters of this stream will make the salty waters of the Dead Sea fresh and pure. There will be swarms of living things wherever the water of this river flows. Fish will abound in the Dead Sea, for its waters will become fresh.
Life will flourish wherever this water flows.”
~ Ezekiel 47:8,9“But the marshes and swamps will not be purified; they will still be salty. Fruit trees of all kinds will grow along both sides of the river. The leaves of these trees will never turn brown and fall, and there will always be fruit on their branches. There will be a new crop every month, for they are watered by the river flowing from the Temple. The fruit will be for food and the leaves for healing.”
~ Ezekiel 47:11, 12
“Have you been watching,
son of man?”
Wherever this water flows. I had to get out of the swamp that would remain salty. I was in the desert … the Dead Sea … and I needed my waters made fresh and pure. I needed the life flourishing in that river. The fruit, the healing.
What made this river abound with life?
Mercy
and
Grace.
This life-giving river is the lavish and unstoppable water of God’s Mercy and Grace. It’s always available. Always flowing. Always there.
But …
Step four on my journey from grief to joy was Action.
The Father is ready and willing to extend that mercy and grace to us. But God will not yank us and pull us against our will into his river of grace. The Holy Spirit will draw us, but we have to move into the flow. We must take action and step into the river and let the undertow take us and consume us.
“Let us therefore come boldly to the throne of grace, that we may obtain mercy and find grace to help in time of need.”
~ Hebrews 4:16
Action …
I couldn’t stand on the riverbank allowing my “stuff” to hold me back from his mercy and grace. Stuff like anger and bitterness. Grief and loss. Sin and stubbornness.
I ran to that river and dove in. I swam deep, permitting the current to draw me down into the depths of his love. Breathing in his mercy and grace, I allowed myself to drown in the river of peace that overtook me.
And rest came.
It was a rest of being held in the arms of my Papa God. Rest, as he whispered it would be okay. Rest, as He poured strength over me.
Rest, because joy would come.
… Weeping may last through the night,
but joy comes with the morning.
~ Psalm 30:5
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