Not About COVID-19

I started writing a book about 12 years ago.

I never finished it.

But I thought I'd share part of it today. It has nothing to do with the Coronavirus, so if you're looking for a brain-break from current events, read on. :)

The River Jordan

In the church that I grew up attending, it was tradition to get baptized in the church after you made a decision to follow Christ. So when I was 12 or 13 years old, I donned the customary white gown and went down in the baptistery waters.

I don’t remember much about it, but I’m sure it was a wonderful experience. However, I always thought it was so cool when people told me they’d been baptized in the Holy Land. It’s not that my baptism was in any way inferior to theirs, but let’s be honest: Somehow my childhood church’s seafoam-colored, giant “bathtub” does not quite compare to the River Jordan. (In Jordan they call it the "River Jordan" instead of the "Jordan River," so that's how I refer to it here.) So when I went to the Holy Land in November of 2008, I was determined to get baptized.

As my tour bus approached Bethany by the Jordan, the place of Jesus’ baptism, my excitement began to grow. One of my fellow travelers was an ordained minister, and he agreed to get into the river with me and conduct the baptism.

But as we got closer, the skies turned dark, and it began to drizzle. Every single day of our trip thus far had been sunny, so I was confused as to why God would allow rain on this day of all days!

We got out of the bus and began walking down a path, our tour guide explaining the significance of each stop along the route. The rain started coming down a little harder, and I wondered if I should call it off.

However, I knew this might be my only opportunity to realize my dream of being baptized in the Holy Land, so I stuck to the plan.

The place of the baptism wasn’t anything like what I’d imagined. The river was shallow, and the distance from one side to the other was probably only about 100 feet. And in addition to the sky looking like pea soup and the drizzle dampening my spirit, the waters of the Jordan were downright murky. The river did not appear at all refreshing, clean, or even close to clean. But I pressed on.

With about a hundred Muslim, Christian, and Jewish tourists looking on, I proclaimed my faith in Jesus Christ and was immersed.

To be honest, I didn’t feel a whole lot different as I rose from the waters. Mostly I just felt grimy. But as we walked back to the bus, suddenly the skies parted and these radiant beams of light came flooding down directly upon us.

One of the ladies in our group exclaimed, “It’s like God is shining a spotlight and saying, ‘This is my daughter with whom I am well pleased.’”

I don’t know that God arranged those sunbeams just for me, but I’d like to think so. You see, sometimes the clouds of life threaten to undermine our resolve. We start out focused, set on doing what’s right, resolved to do what God has called us to do. But then the clouds appear, and we begin to wonder if we misheard the voice of God. We question our decisions. A battle begins in our mind: Is there any easier route? A path without drizzling rain, without murky waters, a path that guarantees things won’t get messy?

But we forget that God is in those darkened skies. He rides on the clouds. He makes them His home. The Lord specifically told Moses that He would come in a dense cloud. Pea-soup skies are His domain. And how we respond to dark skies can make the Father pleased or displeased.

Recently I suffered what I thought was a terrible injustice at my job. I was angry, hurt, and shocked at how I had been treated. I wasn’t the only one. My family and close friends expressed their own righteous indignation. I have to admit, I kind of enjoyed the attention. But there came a point when I had to quit talking about it. You see, every time I opened my mouth, I knew I was sinning. My anger was turning into bitterness, and it was neither productive nor pleasing to God.

I reminded myself that God gave us teeth and lips for more than one reason. When used properly, they can serve as a cage to preventive words from rolling off our tongue that are not edifying, not encouraging, and not kind. “But it’s true!” you say. Yes, but just because something is true does not mean it needs to be said.

When I quit running at the mouth and listened to God, He reminded me that He is in the dark, foreboding skies. Although the skies were stormy and threatened to overwhelm me, God was there. He is the just God who also suffered great injustices. He understands, and He is never closer than when we are brokenhearted.

“God is near to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.” Psalm 34:18