Paths

It’s beach week for the Statons.

We got to Hilton Head last Saturday, have gorged ourselves on steak, seafood, strawberry pie and boatdrinks (last night I learned the value of Zantac), and as of this moment, nobody has gotten sunburned. I call that a win. (I had to tick some people off to make that happen, but I pushed through the whining and the eyerolls. They’ll thank me later, right? Right? Hello?)

As you may recall from former blogs, I’m honestly not much of a beach person. (Fifth generation Floridian and I don’t like the beach or citrus fruit. No idea.)

But I usually brave my OWN sunscreen drama (my eyerolls and whining put the kids to shame) to wander down a couple times during the week. Once there, I plant myself under the tent or make a mad dash for the water. Love swimming in the ocean.

And as tradition holds, one morning each trip, God wakes me up early for our yearly walk on the beach.

This usually happens around 7 AM (early for vacation), but not this year. For some reason, He thought 5:45 on Wednesday morning would be better.

Really, Lord? Is this really You? Or is this all those oysters I ate last night?

[Smile.] You know it’s Me. Let’s go.

But 5:45? Come on. I’m on vacation.

I have My reasons. Move it.

He always has His reasons, doesn’t He?

I managed to find my flip-flops without waking anybody else up, slipped out the front door and sleepily stumbled toward the beach. Probably took me a good 15 minutes to really wake up. It was light enough to see, but not bright. Warm, but breezy.

On my way to the water, I passed a couple streams where tide pools were draining into the ocean. One made it all the way home. Another hadn’t made it too far before the terrain blocked it in.

The ocean was nice and warm. I planned on strolling in the shallow water but quickly found myself thigh deep, the tide licking the bottom of my shorts. I barely noticed.

The sun was making its move. I was just in time.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I was entranced as I watched the distant ball of fire ease out of the water to fill the sky with color and light. Breathtaking.

I’ve seen plenty of sunrises. I’ve seen plenty of BEACH sunrises. But this time, something happened that I had never noticed before. As the sun rose, it extended a fiery path across the water. Like an invitation.

What is this, Lord? A stairway to heaven?

[Another smile.] Do you want to climb it? 

Of COURSE I want to climb it.

Well, you can’t, of course, unless My Son has taught you to walk on water. 

You know, I’ve been meaning to ask You about that. After seeing the Sea of Galilee, I’ve been kinda wanting to. 

Not gonna happen.

But Peter got to do it!

Only with direct Supervision. And in case you haven’t noticed, Jesus hasn’t come back yet.

FINE.

Look at the sun, My child. Look at the PATH.

[Grumbling.] A FAKE path since you can’t really WALK on it. But I did look up. A path, He said.

Suddenly in my mind’s eye, I saw all the paths I took to get to this very spot this morning. The path through the woods, the sidewalk to the stairs, the stairs to the sand, the streams to the ocean, and now this path of fire leading straight to the sun.

I see it, Lord.

Good. The breeze affectionately tousled my hair and I knew it was His mighty hand. We stayed there for a while.

The sun slowly moved above the water, the path still extending my direction, until it hid behind a low cloud.

God had gone silent, but was still near. As delicious as the water felt against my legs, I turned toward home.

I made it to the stairs and noticed the path to the sidewalk, to the woods, to the road, to the house.

All these paths were well worn, some even paved. Any other route to the beach would have required unnecessary effort and may have distracted from the beauty of the destination.

I remember hiking in Arizona years ago and how wandering off the path landed me in the ER. I was blinded by the beauty all around me and, in my enthusiasm, wandered from the safety of the trail. Not my brightest moment.

Andrew Peterson sings of ‘keeping to the old roads’ in a song to his teenage son. (Parents, be warned. This song WILL make you cry.) And when he gets lost, he is to ‘go back to the ancient path’ to find his way Home.

And yet there is a wildness in us all, put there by our Creator, drawn to ‘the road less traveled,’ as ‘that made all the difference.’

We WANT to make a difference. Distinction. Adventure. Uniqueness. Dare I say, a name for ourselves (Genesis 11:4).

Is it so wrong to want to stand out and be different?

No, it is not wrong. Sometimes we are even commanded to do so.

But we gotta do a heart check. Constantly. Who or what are we following?

Ambition?
Excitement?
Someone else?
Accomplishment?
Ego?
Our own plan?
Other’s expectations?

Even if there is nothing visibly in front of us, we are always following something or someone, whether we know it or not. And neither the well-worn path nor the freshly blazed trail is safe without God’s leading.

I’ve spent most of my life on ‘the old roads.’ And I love them. And while that may have been God’s plan for some of that time, I wasn’t always following HIM. In more recent days, I’ve tried intentionally moving off the trail, sometimes following my Guide (thrilling), sometimes following my blind, deceitful heart (um, stupid and dangerous).

It’s all about who or what you’re following.

And remember that your path is completely different from anyone else’s. Therein lies the precious distinction we all yearn for. God’s unique journey for every person on this planet. We may share the journey for a time. It could be forever, it could be a season. But never hold on so tight to another person that you lose your grip on God. Follow His lead, no matter the cost.

And if His voice isn’t clear or He’s moved out of view, check the map (Bible). He will never lead you in a way that contradicts scripture.

The early birds are starting to stir. In an attempt to be helpful, I knocked over my Diet Coke while going to make coffee. (Sigh. #imeanwell) Anybody else ever notice the harder you try not to make any noise, the more likely you are to knock something over? I can already tell there’s a nap in my future.

But hopefully through my days I’ll remember that every step I take is on a path. A path toward any number of things.

And never more than now have I been able to look back on the various paths God has taken me on to get me to where I am now. Even paths I chose in rebellion, when I cried out like a lost sheep, my Shepherd has led me back to the right path for me at that time.

So whether it’s the well-worn roads of our ancestors or the wild new adventures that break off from the pack, I hope I’ll watch my step.

But most importantly, I hope I’ll watch my King.