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