Tonight we are a cord of three strands, sitting, eating, talking, writing – three friends, three women blessed by the words, “Me, too.” Those two wonderful words that say, “You are not alone. You are not the only one who feels crazy, lost and confused much of the time.”
But we three cords are not just wallowing in our burdens, instead we’re intertwining our experiences, strengthening each other by the sharing of truth. Like iron sharpens iron. The three strands of our lives weave together to form a cord that reaches up to Heaven. And we’re leaning on that cord, clinging to it, pulling on it with all our weight. We’re reaching out for understanding, asking for wisdom.
And we’re exhausted. Sometimes all we can do is lean. Lean not on our own understanding. Instead we lean on each other, lean on the cord that is not easily broken, lean on the knowledge that God is faithful. Because He has proved himself to us time and time again. Through failed relationships and fertility issues – through sexual brokenness and physical healing – God is writing His story in our lives that reminds each other and shows others that He is all powerful. And He is all good.
He is a trustworthy Father who will give us good things. “For who when his [daughter] asks for bread, will give [her] a stone?” Our Heavenly father will not give us stones. He gives us manna from Heaven. But only enough for today. We walk by faith not by sight. For if we had a map, if we knew exactly where we were going, then we wouldn’t hold our Father’s hand.
“Hold my hand in childlike trust and the way will open up before you step by step” (Jesus Calling, Sarah Young). I feel much like Abram these days – like God is telling me to “go,” but I don’t know where. “Leave your country, your people and your father’s household and go to the land I will show you” (Genesis 12:1). Essentially, leave everything that is familiar, abandon your comfort, make yourself vulnerable and trust me.
I trust you, Jesus.
That has been the theme of these past few weeks, this year so far. 2012, the year of learning to trust.
And it’s painful. But walking with Christ, He assures us, will be painful. It’s like walking on a tightrope, it takes concentration and it may hurt our feet as we step gingerly along the way. But that rope is strong, we can trust that it will hold us. And beneath it are “the everlasting arms.”
Walking with Christ is like walking up a mountain. But He is the staff we can lean on. And we must. For He is the one who promises that He will “broaden the path beneath me, so that my ankles do not turn” (Psalm 18:36). He promises to go before us, to hem us in from behind. He will show us where to go.
But as we go, as we walk with Him, we are to “look straight ahead.” “Fix your gaze directly before you. Make level paths for your feet and take only ways that are firm. Do not swerve to the right or the left; keep your foot from evil” (Proverbs 4: 26-27). It’s when we look all around us that we lose sight of our God, our staff, the rod that comforts and guides us.
When we get distracted by the wind, it has the power to terrify us and we begin to sink. Like Peter walking out to Jesus, we have to cry out, “Lord, save me!” (Matthew 14:30). And He is gracious to do so. We need not fear the wind, but rather listen for His voice on it, calling to us, telling us where to go. And He says “Come. Trust me.”