Walk on Water

My woolen clad feet slip into personal skates, oh so comfy.  It's a familiar home-like fit.  I feel empowered, ready for action with hair blowing free.  The lake is inviting, a whole vast world of freedom dressed in brilliance, brisk air invigorating. 

But then I look down.  The ice appears different than before.  Where the snow has been shoveled off, I can see clear through.  In one swift moment, fear snuffs out my confidence.  "Why does the ice look so thin?" I nervously inquire of my husband.

Faster at lacing up his skates, he has already taken a swirl or two on the lake.  "It's still a good 4 or 5 inches thick," he states so matter of factly.  "The ice was cloudy before, but today you can see the water underneath.  That's the only difference."

You can see.

What is it about seeing that paralyzes?   With great trepidation I venture out.  Slowly at first, because it's hard to trust.  I look up and there is my husband, already halfway across the lake, moving in complete joy and freedom. Shoot, if he can do it, so can I.  Without looking down, I plunge full force into my stride.  

The ice holds.  

Believe without seeing, that is how faith is usually defined.  Yet, sometimes faith is required even when the way is clear . . . like walking on water.  The path before me remains unmistakable, but when I look down at my feet, the action needed in order to obey, looms insurmountable.   Soon, I am shaking.

What I believe about God is crucial to my confidence.  Is He Truth?   Then why do my skates fall into these cracks, causing me to fall flat on my face?  Because I have believed lies about God.  And the more I dwell there, the wider the cracks.

Truth calls me to look up.  His smile of favor gives courage to take the next step.  Jesus knows me completely, yet never condemns or forsakes.  Most assuredly, I am not alone.  How do I know?  Truth says so.  (Heb. 13:5)

With lifted face my eyes scan the horizon.  And there is my husband skating free, oxygen pulsing through his veins, like others gone before, Hebrews 11 people.  They never saw, but they are alive.  My husband sees, turns, and skates beside me. 

As I write this, my husband and children are off skating, only indoors at a rink.  The ice has since melted, but the fact still remains that none of us ever skates alone.  I'm so thankful for my brothers and sisters in the Lord who walk right along beside me, fighting the good fight of faith.

In times of discouragement it is easy to think we are the only ones. This is why, though we look to Jesus, we remain beside one another.   No wonder the Scriptures command us not to forsake meeting together!  (Heb. 10:25) 

My youngest has just walked in the door and announced, "I'm not sure I've got my land legs back!"  And I would have to agree.  But I'm not sure I want them back, 'cause walking on water is much more rewarding.