devotion 297 - turn around

The phone rang early.  It was my son.

“I have made a decision,” he said and followed with the words, “I have prayed and sought the Lord this morning.”

This morning?  I quipped in the silence of my mind.  

Decisions always require more than a morning but I forget he is growing up and decisions, dates, debates often now happen outside the walls of my home.  Exactly the way it should be.

I listened to his words and prayed for wisdom.  The parent must always balance godly wisdom with the easier and quicker, “haven’t I told you this a thousand times.”

I wondered as I listened if this was an ocean moment.

I had heard of such a moment just the day before.  It was on the radio;   a Christian author describing a life changing moment in her teen years as she stood at the ocean playing with her cousins.  Her family and extended family had rented a house on the shore.  We had done this;  I was suddenly standing there with her.  She was not in charge.  No, that responsibility belonged to the parents and aunts and uncles still residing in the house.  She heard the screen door slam.  She watched as her aunt flew down the stairs towards the water; her eyes filled with terror, her mouth gaping open.

The young teen froze wondering what it was her aunt could possibly be seeing. In a moment, a moment becomes an eternity.  She wondered what lay behind her?

Could it be a shark or a drowning cousin? Should she have been counting children or paying more attention?  In that moment, she simply could not turn around, fear had paralyzed her.

Fear is the great immobilizer.  It prevents movement, thought, rationale, and worse it is a roadblock to faith.  The mighty steamroller of faith stands ready to crush it but we stand behind the roadblock.  We simply do not turn around.

The young teen finally hears the yells and screams of her cousins around her and the adults who have now sensed the situation on the terrace above.  Slowly she regains her composure knowing turning around is less painful than the fear that is painting her heart and soul in paralysis.

She turns and her aunt is in the water.  She already has a firm grasp on the dear cousin that had gone farther than his strength would hold him.  He would be alright, in seconds, everything was alright.

An ocean moment.  A moment where we can choose to see terror, to breathe fear, to sense the enemy’s claws embrace us so tightly we are frozen to the warmth of faith.

Then we turn around.  We see as the Creator sees.  And we realize He is in control.

I think of that ocean moment as I talk with my son.  I choose.  I can stand looking into the fear of his decisions.  I can attempt to assert control or I can turn around and see Someone has control.    That Someone is God.

I commend my son to His care and I watch.  I cry with him through the valleys and I rejoice with Him on the mountaintops and I let God.  When my son walks away from me, he walks towards heaven taking those steps with the Spirit.  I catch a glimpse of how God sees him and it is glorious.

I hang up the phone; my wee daughter stands there waiting to talk.  Strange how children are silent until the phone rings.  I chat with my daughter who struggles to speak.  Another ocean moment.

I have spent weeks migrating doctor and school reports from here to there and searching for more therapy.  I can choose to be frozen in the frustration of it all, or I can choose to turn around and see her as Her Creator sees her.  

He didn't make a mistake; He is doing more in me and our family through the lack of speech than could ever be mustered by the abundance of it.

We pray harder.  We listen longer.  We work wonderfully together on sounds and words and the working of faith.  We turn around.

But what if we turn around and what we see is as bad as we feared?  What if sons make bad decisions and daughters are made fun of for their disability?

We must focus on the hands pulling the child out of the ocean.  We must remember there are hands around the problem, the tragedy, the sadness we behold.

He saw it coming.  He knew from the beginning of time.  He lent us the fortitude to turn and simply ask us to watch Him work. 

The work may be the salvation of a drowning child, or it may be the salvation of a lost soul.  Or it may be the work fraught to build faith and establish zeal.

 For in this hope we were saved. Now hope that is seen is not hope. For who hopes for what he sees?  But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience.  Romans 8: 24-25