As a teenager, I worked summers at Pinebrook, a place of varying degrees of mystery, wonder, pain, excitement, boredom, smiles, and tears. I had been a camper there for years, which accounts for a lot of the mystery and wonder. I'm getting sidetracked. Girls working summers at Pinebrook mostly stayed in Pine Lodge (I stayed in the new incarnation of it, though legend said the old one was awesome.), which was in the campground. Now, there were two main ways to get to Pine Lodge, and a third shortcut up some steep terrain. I liked the shortcut. At night, it was unlit, but I'd climbed it enough times in the light that all I needed was a careful step. I referred to it as 'walking by faith, and not by sight.' I didn't get that knowing the path left out the faith part.
These days, I'm learning better what it means to walk by faith. It means not seeing beyond the next step in life. Trusting that my Father knows the path, despite my blindness. Believing that there is a purpose in my seemingly meaningless task. Taking the next step. It's painful and healing, frightening and reassuring. I feel the coward and look the brave, think of escape while fighting in battle. I prayed 'Lord, save me from my righteous self. Show me my own ugliness.' Boy, I am ugly. I am filthy, craven, hard, bitter, and twisted. But I am redeemed. I am loved, forgiven, protected, guided, and molded. I am on the anvil, going through heat and pain to be forged a tool that is stronger, purer, wiser. Oh, it hurts. But in the times I lie awake, protesting my burden, He reminds me that I am His, that He is good, and that He is on my side, and I drift off, secure in my Father's arms.
We walk by faith, and not by sight.
Thy word is a lamp unto my feet, and a light unto my path. Ps. 119:105 (Thanks, Pioneer Girls, circa 1997)
These days, I'm learning better what it means to walk by faith. It means not seeing beyond the next step in life. Trusting that my Father knows the path, despite my blindness. Believing that there is a purpose in my seemingly meaningless task. Taking the next step. It's painful and healing, frightening and reassuring. I feel the coward and look the brave, think of escape while fighting in battle. I prayed 'Lord, save me from my righteous self. Show me my own ugliness.' Boy, I am ugly. I am filthy, craven, hard, bitter, and twisted. But I am redeemed. I am loved, forgiven, protected, guided, and molded. I am on the anvil, going through heat and pain to be forged a tool that is stronger, purer, wiser. Oh, it hurts. But in the times I lie awake, protesting my burden, He reminds me that I am His, that He is good, and that He is on my side, and I drift off, secure in my Father's arms.
We walk by faith, and not by sight.
Thy word is a lamp unto my feet, and a light unto my path. Ps. 119:105 (Thanks, Pioneer Girls, circa 1997)
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