this is actually an old post I hadn’t published… here you go
Diving into a new post here….
As much as I do love mountains, I believe I live for the open space in between them. We listened to a lot of Rich Mullins songs while I was growing up. Perhaps I was swept up in his fascination of the plains in the music of the hammered dulcimer and strings and Rich’s simple, natural voice singing of “the wideness in God’s mercy” and “the reckless, raging fury that they call the love of God.”
As much as I love the plains, I love the sky still more. No one can build walls in the sky, there are no hiding places, only depth. Such a freeing vulnerability. Every fall I am reminded of days walking home from school and getting lost in its clear Arizona blue, something about the chilly air and smell of dead leaves takes me up there.
Funny, to always have loved the security of the mountains, so established and overshadowing… yet all my climbing was always motivated by the summit where the ground recedes all around and the wind grows strong and the view of the sky is unhindered by any thing in the horizon.
A while back I saw a picture in my mind of a wide prairie, and somewhere on it a perfectly round wall. In the middle of the stony wall I was dancing. I didn’t know I was living in the confines of a wall. I didn’t know how to take it down. I asked my Father to show me what to do, but got no answer, only peace.
I saw the wall after a conversation with a friend about God’s provision. No matter what the substance or answer to the questions in the conversation, what really hit me were the strong feelings of resentment, abandonment, envy and even anger that I could feel stirring up, like those blackened clouds that come out of nowhere to dump their passion and furies upon the earth.
It nearly knocked me over. And I didn’t run away from it this time. I looked it in its swollen, self-pitying face and… it wasn’t pretty. Lucky for me, ha, this was on the way to Church. Perfect. So I drug that messy black bag in behind me and tried to sort through the thing. That’s when He showed me the wall. The wall that, apparently, had formerly held back that blackened mess. All I did was take my finger out of that hole in the dam and let Father tear it down for me. At least, that’s what I have since figured out He’s doing.
I remember the first time I ever felt angry with God. It was silly, I was frustrated with the wind. The literal wind. I guess it was something beyond my ability to control. I had pent up emotion and the wind became the proverbial back breaking straw. Today I found myself cursing the wind once again, and thinking about anger, how I’d not dealt with anger in a long time. Anger has been, to me, the embarrassing cousin (the metaphorical embarrassing cousin) whose existence is purposefully neglected and from whom you turn and hide. I’ve come to terms with pain and sorrow, and won many battles with other “negative” feelings, but I had anger and resentment locked up quite nicely in little boxes at the back of my heart.
Beyond the wall I had glimpsed a wide open plain of freedom. The kind of freedom I daydream about… and when you take a wall down you have to deal with things coming in and out. All kinds of things. Good and bad. I decided, though, in my life I want to respond to emotions from a place of Love and not control. If the bad exists, I want to possess the courage to see it, acknowledge it, ask where it came from and duke it out. Jesus is so gracefully willing to go at my pace. He mercifully taught me to dance even with the hideous boxes lurking at the borders. And it’s really beautiful, how He’s taking care of me. And…
I am going to RUN on that plain. Going to race to the edge of something… going to find some mountains I can climb to get closer to the sky…