Destination: Fierce

I looked outside. Our new house had a pond in the backyard. In the dusk of winter, ice sparkled off the water. I turned Beau around to look at it with me. I told him, “We are going to love this place.”
Spring finally came, and the winter snow relented. We donned boots and spring jackets, and the boys and I headed to the pond. The ground was soft from the snow melting, but the frogs were already waking to spring, and the fish and bugs were coming to life. We got closer to the edge, trying to spot fish and tadpoles. Beau was in the middle, flanked by my seven-year-old Bailey and myself. He seemed no closer than we were, but in an instant, his little feet slipped into the water, and he began to sink fast.

It is a golf course pond, dug by man with what we learned a surprising depth and steep shore. Bailey and I each grabbed an arm and took our frightened baby out of the water, covered in mud from the chest down.

We learned something that day. The pond, the little golf course pond so full of life and wonder, was dangerous, and the Hill children would not be going anywhere close to it again. I also learned as the months and years passed that my rule did not apply to the neighbor children. Summer after summer, I watched as the neighbor kids walked near the pond and skipped rocks across it. Winter after winter, I saw my neighbor clear the snow and ice-skate with his children. I heard them roar with laughter as they played hockey and threw snowballs. All the while I watched, literally waiting to call 9-1-1. I had decided the pond was not safe, and I was sticking to it.

This last winter was exceptionally cold. I think in three months, we had 595 days of below-freezing temperatures. One Saturday, the air, although freezing, was bearable, and I watched as the neighbor kids played hockey. My daughter Ava Joy begged to join, but I redirected her to building a snowman. My husband gallantly bundled up to help, and I promised to come out and snap a picture. I was honestly grateful the hockey game had ended. There would be no discussion of hockey or ice skating. After a bit of snowman building, we would call it a day.

I saw Frosty go up and arrived with my camera and a carrot for the nose. I took the picture. I wasn’t thinking about the pond but rather just took a bit of a walk. The snow was good packing snow, not the soft stuff that exhausts you after ten feet of walking. I made it all the way back to the pond.

It was solid. I realized it had been solid now for a very long time. We had not had a day above thirty-two degrees in what felt like years. There was absolutely no question: one could walk, slide, or skate across without any danger.

And I wondered what I had been missing. For almost fifteen years, I had banished my children from the pond because of fear. I wanted to step out on that pond, just one foot to say I could, to know that at least today fear would not get in the way. The water was solid, much like a life built on Jesus.

Where are you today? Are you like me, standing on the side of life, hoping you can muster the courage to walk out, take His hand, and experience the life He has promised? It will be hard, but remember, easy is not the goal. Glory is.

Maybe you are already out there. You have heard your call, but even the most solid of ice can be slippery. You have to grab His hand and keep holding. You dig into scripture and pray hard, but maybe the results or rewards aren’t coming as fast as you thought. Perhaps it is lonely in the middle holding on to Him. Possibly the family has not understood or the friends have faded away. I get it. I have been there too.

And then some have made it. They have gone across the first big stretch of ice and are looking for the next. They are waving back at us and cheering us on because they know He is faithful. I am so glad you are here with us to encourage us. You whisper words of hope to us and we to you.

I am not sure when I fell in love with scripture. It was some years ago. It was not because of its eloquence; it was and is the contagion of knowing more about Jesus. Every day was a new journey; every passage was a new piece of this Jesus with whom I was falling deeper in love with. You have your path. Perhaps you have come out of pain or loss. Possibly you are giving Jesus your first try or you are on your very last nerve.

I will tell you until I am blue about scripture. I love it. I wake up for it. I am constantly and absolutely amazed about how I can read and then hear the same words in a story or song sometime later in my day or week. This is how the Holy Spirit works.
He is incredibly personal, deeply detailed, and wonderfully winsome. He weaves into our very souls the threads of lessons and love. This doesn’t happen every single day, but when it does, it can only be explained by Him. I have filled up on a Sunday morning just to have an opportunity to pour out into the next day, evening, or week. He is crazy good this way, and I love Him for it.