Forward

I love to waterski. You might not know that about me, but I do. I only get to ski about once a year or so, but I like to make sure I still do it to remember how much I love it. The reason I can still ski, even though I am getting old is because I had a good teacher. One of the first things I remember Pete saying is let the boat do the work, it will pull you out of the water. You don’t have to pull yourself up. This is the best advice. I find myself repeating it when other people are learning. It doesn’t mean that I don’t’ ever forget. There are lots of times I’ve failed to ski because I did just that, tried to pull myself up in my own power.

The second lesson I need to repeat to myself while skiing is to make sure that you keep your feet together. If you let one foot start to drift out of line, you are going down. You’ve got to keep your knees together; only then can you direct yourself in and out of the wake. Both feet have to face the same way. While I realize that this seems like a no-brainer, I am realizing that I have trouble with this same rule in my life.

Both of these skiing lessons have been coming full circle with me. We recently switched churches. I ‘ve been having trouble letting go. Initially change can be exciting, but the newness usually wears off. I was missing the feeling of being known this week. I missed teaching my Sunday School class and felt stuck in between seasons. Feeling stuck is something I always want to rush through, but it’s often a place where I really hear from God. Waiting places create a space for listening. I often need that space, or I will just rush in the wrong direction, but I am notoriously bad at giving myself space.

This week, I heard God telling me that I need both feet facing the same direction.  I can’t walk into all God has planned for me with one foot in both places. I have to commit my full weight, both feet in one direction. Can I tell you that I am crying right now as I write this because it’s hard. Please remember that I might write words that I know are true to encourage others, but sometimes I struggle to apply them to me. If I don’t make them my own, they won’t carry much weight.

I feel like I am stuck on one side of this fence in this picture, enjoying the view of what might be, but too scared to cross into the field. Can I ask you, in this moment, to pray for me? Maybe that’s an odd request to ask of my readers, but it’s an attempt to be more vulnerable and call you friends.

Here I am waiting to move and I’m remembering my ski lessons. Let the boat do the work and pull me out, both feet in the same direction. 

I have to let go of what is gone.

“But forget all that— it is nothing compared to what I am going to do.

For I am about to do something new.

See, I have already begun!

Do you not see it?

I will make a pathway through the wilderness.

I will create rivers in the dry wasteland.”

Isaiah 43:18&19 NLT

God, I need to let you do the work and not worry about how it’s going to happen.

I’ve seen Your power before. I trust You.

Let that trust bring me hope that You really will do a new thing.

Help me stop comparing to the old thing.

You are the creator. I am going to expect good from You.

Help me not make my plans but wait on Yours.

Do you need to move forward too but you don't feel like you can cross the fence? I'd love to pray for you personally. In the meantime, I covet your prayers.