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Rescue, an Allegory
“He lifted me out of the slimy pit, out of the mud and mire; he set my feet on a rock and gave me a firm place to stand.” Psalm 40:2, NIV
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The path was well-kept and adorned with dainty flowers of violets and magentas that filled the air with delightful fragrance. It wove through Redemption Wood where it was always spring, never winter. The forest was still, and light danced through the trees’ branches. Hundreds of smooth stones fit together to form the way before her.
Princess Riley Anna walked the familiar steps, basking in the afternoon sunlight. Her brown hair fell on her shoulders in wispy waves that flew with the wind when her pace quickened, and when her eyes caught light, they glimmered green in a sea of deep blue.
The trees appeared particularly large and strong on this day; they reminded her of Jesus’ mighty men, well-armored warriors. They stood grounded, each sure of their strategic battle position, dressed in chainmail of rich hickory bark.
Just beyond the mighty oaks, she noticed an unmarked trail. She'd never seen it before which was curious to her. Her heartbeat hastened as she took a step off her path toward it. The squishy ground covered with forest floor moss felt damp and hollow beneath her feet.
“What worlds lay beneath this hollow ground?” she thought, and a conversation she had with Jesus flashed through her mind.
It was one of the first days he had taken her on a stroll through the woods. They spent hours discussing imaginary wonders and the impossible. He stood a head taller than her, and his hands were calloused and marked with scars but possessed a tender strength. Crouched
down, admiring a red mushroom painted with splattered white speckles, Jesus caught her gaze and spoke gently, “This path is yours, Riley. You may walk it whenever you wish.”
Her heart leapt within her at his words, celebrating wildly! A deep love for these woods had sprouted up in her heart, and she was overjoyed at the thought of walking them all the days of her life.
Jesus continued, “Make sure to stay on the path I have made. It is kept safe for you.”
She would only examine the nature of this peculiar path; she wouldn’t stray far. The sun would be setting within the hour, so she would have to return to the city soon anyway.
The off-beaten path wound round more sturdy warriors, but their branches were bare and fallen leaves crunched beneath her feet. Uneasy, she peered over her shoulder. Her heart plummeted. Jesus’ path was nowhere to be seen. And even the rugged path she was on seemed to have vanished.
Puzzled and bothered, she sat on a rock to ponder the peculiarity of both paths disappearing. The rock was hard and cold, nothing like the warmth and welcome of her seat in Shaddai’s castle. Shaddai was Jesus’ father—together they ruled all of Redemption Wood and the Kingdom of Zion. The princesses in the Kingdom sat beneath the grand
crystal chandelier in the throne room. Marble pillars upheld a ceiling of glittering glass and were robed with gold tapestries that draped over the granite parapets overlooking the Great Sea.
Snap! A tree branch cracked under something powerful, and the princess was on her feet before she discovered what made such a dreadful noise to one lost and alone. Her heart thrashed against her chest, and she sailed. She did not care where she went or how she got there, but
she was a ship headed out of the harbor, full speed ahead. Clumsily bolting past tree after tree, her foot caught a decaying tree root, and she went tumbling down. She tore
down the side of the slimy pit, into the mud and the mire.
She clawed at the walls, desperately searching for anything she could grab hold of, but the rain from the evening before had turned the dirt to sinking mud. The few oak roots creeping through the dirt fortress were caked in clumps of mud and made for slippery ropes. She fell again
and again. Her once angelic dress was tattered and clothed with grime of the permanent kind; with the stains one can't ever get out.
Despair overshadowed her. It's blackness closed in around her, suffocating all remnants hope. The weight of the shame she felt pinned her to the slimy mud.
She gazed toward the small opening above to catch a last glimpse of the sun before its withdrawal. With eyes squeezed shut, in frailty she called on the only name she could muster, "Jesus."
The sun seemed to have met its demise and darkness would soon set in. She would not survive the night.
And then she heard it.
A familiar, unwavering, tender voice.
“Riley! Don’t be afraid. I am coming to get you.”
Before the last word had even crossed his lips, Jesus had removed his royal robe; it was finely woven, made of the purest white silk.
Clothed in only his humble canvas under robe, Jesus climbed down the slimy mud walls. As his sandaled foot reached the ground it slid out from under him; he fell into the mud, dirtying himself in the mire. He regained his footing and embraced Princess Riley Anna. His arms were rescue around her. Tears raced down her face—tears of relief, hope, guilt, and grief. The dam of her calm front was broken down by the pressure of a treacherous sea. Her tears soaked Jesus’ hair and shoulder as he held her.
With voice gentle and hushed Jesus said, “I AM here now.”
A rope was thrown down to them. Her tears had dried, sticky on her face. Together, they made the ascent up out of that pit.
When she reached the top fresh tears burst forth. As far as the eye could see, stood the tall, sturdy warriors of the Kingdom. They wore their finest, glittering
armor of gold, and even standing shoulder to shoulder consumed the clearing with their ranks.
Jesus pulled himself to his feet; his shadow engulfed hers, only it wasn’t quite a shadow, for it appeared as more of a light in the midst of darkness.
When the vast army saw them, they cheered and rejoiced, shouting in a resounding chorus, “Riley is saved!”
Riley fell to her knees, knowing she was unworthy of his rescue. Stooping down, just as he had on one of their first walks in the forest, Jesus picked up his white robe and draped it across her shoulders.
He lifted her chin, took hold of her hands, and as He helped her to her feet, beaming, He said, “I sent the whole army.”
Jesus the Cure
I’ve been inconsistent with committing to things lately and this blog has followed suit. God is in the process of refining me; a great stripping away I would call it. He is opening my eyes to just how weak, frail, and incapable I am—not in a shaming way, for that isn’t His nature, but in a way that continually humbles me and shows me the greatness of His power and the severity of my frailty. Without Him I am nothing but dust; here one day and gone the next.
It was 11:50. I was driving down a windy backroad through the Black Forest with only stars and headlights lighting the pavement before me. I had a long day and was struggling to stay awake; soon I would get to climb into my bed and get the rest my body was desperate for. It was in that moment that the words on this page flooded my mind. I tried with all my might to ignore them, to make it home as quick as I could, but I have come to learn the Holy Spirit is relentless.
So there I was, pulled over on some side street with a name that was easy to forget, typing in the ‘Notes’ on my phone.
The Holy Spirit has a way of moving in ways that may be inconvenient to us. But oh, what we learn from Him, if we take the time to still ourselves, listen earnestly, and respond in reverence.
As I reluctantly listened for God's still, small voice, my stereo synchronized with my very thoughts: the LORD was the Composer, my thoughts were the lyrics, and the song that began playing on the radio was the sheet music crescendoing in the most lovely melody. “Hey Jesus” by Elyssa Smith played, and I couldn’t help but smile at Jesus. The thoughts He had just inspired me with were confirmed by the words of this song.
The lyrics began to turn through my mind like the gears in a grandfather clock. I wasn’t just hearing the song, I was experiencing it, as though my Savior Himself was singing to me.
He sang, “Suddenly this heart of stone became a crying mess. Suddenly it felt like every dam broke in my chest. In a moment, the moment I saw You.”
It wasn’t the moment I saw my mother or father, brother or sister. It wasn’t the moment I saw my dearest friends or closest companions. It wasn’t even the moment I saw the man of my dreams.
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It was the moment I saw Jesus.
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He broke down every one of my walls in an instant, and He didn’t even try—He just looked at me. I thought I was okay, I thought I was happy, I thought I had things under control—but I was wrong.
When I saw Jesus, the floodgates of all my hurt were opened. I wasn’t okay and I didn’t need to be. I fell, broken in a thousand pieces on the floor. And now, Jesus is helping me pick those pieces up. And the thing is, He never expected me to be okay or to have it all together.
I responded, “I can’t explain the way I felt when love rushed in my heart. What I thought was put together, it all just fell apart. In a moment, the moment I saw You.”
With Jesus I was safe. His vulnerability, His compassion, His gentleness, they consumed me. I didn’t even know that I didn’t have it all together until I saw Him. His strength was made stronger and more perfect in my weakness, so my weakness was embraced all the more. The magnitude of my weakness was encouraged and therefore came pouring out of me.
It wasn’t pretty, put together, or tied with a nice bow. It was broken, messy, painful; a heap of filthy rags. That is what came out of me when Jesus stepped in the room. And His response wasn’t what I expected. It wasn’t rejection, shock, or horror. He stared deep into my eyes and said, “Is that it?”
The King of the Universe, perfect in all His glory and splendor, took all my sins and all my pain. Just. Like. That. He wasn’t upset, and it wasn’t a burden for Him to carry. It was easy for Him to take what had been weighing me down for years.
He is the cure. The cure to all things. We have been tricked into thinking that as Christians we need to be put together, happy, constantly smiling, and reminding everyone that, “It’s gonna get better!” But that’s what Jesus wants from us.
We don’t have to perform, put on a smile and pretend that everything is great when we feel like we’re falling apart. Jesus promised us that we would go through hard things, so why do we act like we don’t or like the hard things we face aren’t that bad?
I think the common misconception is that Jesus doesn’t cure us in the way one might think. He doesn't make all our troubles suddenly vanish, but that doesn't mean He hasn't cured us. Followers of Christ have experienced hardship for centuries, but have not been left hopeless. I am reminded of a particular account when Paul and Silas endured great hardship. They were severely beaten and held in chains in prison. They were in pain, they were exhausted, and they didn’t know how long they would be imprisoned. Yet they praised God. And then something miraculous happened; their cell doors flew open!
What made those doors fly open? The praises of two men who had just endured great pain and suffering. Do you think they praised God because they were happy and life felt good? No.
Do you think they praised God because they thought He would fling those prison doors open? No. They knew God could do anything but I don’t believe they sang so that the prison doors would open.
They praised God because they experienced Jesus cure them of their sins. Jesus led them hand-in-hand over a bridge of reconciliation so that they were no longer eternally separated from God. Paul and Silas praised God not knowing the outcome because they already had the cure. They knew that nothing could snatch them from eternity with Jesus. They had the cure and that's all that mattered.
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So approach Jesus as you are: sick, weary, sinful, broken, lost, hopeless, and receive His cure. He is the cure for the spirt of heaviness, for hopelessness, for fear, and for the trials of this life.
I am experiencing Jesus in a whole new way, and I don’t want to blink in case I miss even a moment of the kindness in His eyes and the healing power of His wounds.
Let your heart of stone become a crying mess. Let every dam break in your chest. Let His love rush in your heart. Let what you’ve put together fall apart. See Him. Behold Him. He will cure you; all you have to do is let Him.
Sea of Galilee, A Reflection from My Time in Israel
"Immediately Jesus made the disciples get into the boat and go on ahead of him to the other side, while he dismissed the crowd. 23 After he had dismissed them, he went up on a mountainside by himself to pray. Later that night, he was there alone, 24 and the boat was already a considerable distance from land, buffeted by the waves because the wind was against it. 25 Shortly before dawn Jesus went out to them, walking on the lake."
Matthew 14: 22-25
He went out to them. I love that. Jesus sent His disciples on
ahead of Him, and He waited until they were a long way out. And then He went. The waves were raging, but each step of the Messiah ushered in a great calm. A storm may have been warring around Him, but it dared not touch the King of Kings.
I envision the sun peeking up over the horizon as the disciples beheld their rabbi, walking on the water. His ways had always been mysterious to them. They thought He couldn't surprise them again, but then He did--again and again and again.
That's one of the things I love most about Jesus: He does
things beautifully backwards in the eyes of man. This forces
me to remember that His ways are higher than my ways, and His thoughts are higher than my thoughts.
There are no words to describe what it was like to be on a boat in the middle of the very waters my Savior walked on. I breathed deeply of the air, felt the rocking of the boat, listened to the lapping waves. This was the place where Christ walked, not on land, but on the sea--the Sea of Galilee.
