A Creep of Faith

Life is a trip. God has put me on the road to service in the Navajo Nation. To see how the whole story began click here. Did you ever watch a very careful person prepare to go swimming in an icy lake? They approach the edge most slowly; no dashing into the water for them. They don't even want to take the chance of getting splashed before they are ready. They carefully dip one big toe in, quickly draw it back out and shake the water off. They stand there for a moment considering the differences between how cold the water is and how much they want to go swimming. Here they go! One step. Two steps. All the way up to their knees. They stop and look longingly back to the shore. There is still time to turn back, but how badly will that damage their pride if anyone is watching? Continuing to advance all the way up to their waist, it is time now to make the 'get your head wet' decision. Is it best to splash a little bit of the ice cold water on their chest, under their arm pits, and then on their face, or do they finally suck up all of their courage and take a big dip or a dive all the way under? Either way, there is a bit of sputtering and gasping and then, look, they're in! The water is still cold. Their lips begin to turn blue. But, by golly, they've done it. They are in swimming. Folks talk about making a "leap of faith." For me, committing to missionary service with the Navajo has been a "creep of faith." I'm just like the person entering the icy lake water. First, I stick my big toe in. This doesn't mean actually listening carefully to the still, small voice of the Holy Spirit. What if, instead, I just ask a few close friends what they think of the idea? They know me well. They wouldn't lead me astray, would they? The majority seem to be at least somewhat in favor of me taking the next step. I hear a lot of, "Are you crazy!? Well, you might as well do what you feel like you need to do." I wade in cautiously up to my knees. I'm talking to my pastoral staff about what I believe to be a calling and asking for their advice. They are kind enough to leave off the, "Are you crazy?" part of the response and help me to pray and to begin listening more carefully to the voice of the Holy Spirit. They help me to search for actual opportunities to be in service to God. Oops! An opportunity shows up and it sounds like it is made for a person with my desires to serve and my few gifts. I can still turn back to shore, but at what cost to my selfish pride? More prayers and quiet meditation. An interview. An offering to accept a position of service. I am now in the icy water up to my waist. God has pointed a way for me to go. The only decision left is the 'head' decision. I can go with the church group for a week and sort of splash my way in or I can take a deep breath, say a fervent prayer, and take that big plunge, going for months of service. I decide to immerse myself all at once and I dive in. The shock of the icy water, of someone like me presumming that God really wants me to serve, takes my breath away. The thrill of God being always with me quickly dispells the bit of fear that I feel. The water is still very cold and my lips will still turn blue, but I know that God will hold me close, keep me safe, and allow me the shear joy of swimming in the waters of service. That, my friends, is where I am on my "creep of faith." I am committed. On Tuesday morning, I will hug my Sara so tightly that I'll be able to feel myself holding her for miles and miles and, I hope, for days and days. She will go east to her job and I will go west across almost 3/4 of the United States to mine. I'll have to be careful driving for the first few miles, because there are sure to be tears in my eyes. John Denver wrote in a song, "How can I leave you again? I must be clear out of my mind." Sometimes, I wholeheartedly agree. Already, I find myself lying awake at night, anxious because I know that in just a short time I won't be able to reach out and just touch her in order to calm my fears and share my concerns. I pray that God will be with her, protect her, and let her know every single day how much I love her. God gave me Sara and surely, He will keep her for me. I leave other family and friends who are so very important to me. For one reason or another, there are probably some that I won't see again in this world. Layoffs, education, and other opportunities will always create movement. Some family and friends are older than me and may be called home before my return. My prayer is that, whether they just move or actually leave this world, they will know I love them and anticipate the day we will be together again. I leave my church: the body of Christ. I know that I will miss those members and friends on Sunday morning, Monday evening, and even in those doggone committee meetings. I am equally certain that they will support me; with gifts, if possible and with prayers always. This might sound a little maudlin, but I don't mean it that way. I'm excited! God's time is not our time, so maybe I'm making a leap of faith after all. Look out, Navajo Nation, here comes God's servant! Peace and Love, Ross