Crossing My Jordan
This past weekend Jeff and I made a quick trip to Tuscaloosa for a high school graduation, and we were able to see a lot of our friends. This is the third time I’ve been back to Tuscaloosa since we moved to Nashville, but this time I finally accepted that we’re supposed to be where we are. For me, the fog is finally beginning to lift, and I’m experiencing a peace within that I haven’t had for some time.
I’ve been wandering in the wilderness for a while, and wilderness living isn’t much fun. I can totally relate to the children of Israel. Even though Abba’s been providing the manna and the water, there’s been a lot of complaining and griping on my part. Just like them, I can see the hand of God all around me, but I’ve chosen to live for a while just focusing on the sand, the heat, and on myself.
Growing up, I always heard the story of the children of Israel crossing the Red Sea, but I don’t remember much being said about them crossing the Jordan River…maybe crossing two rivers was just too much to emphasize, but our God is big, and one river was most certainly not enough. God brought the Israelites to the Jordan River during flood season when the Jordan was overflowing its banks. After He parted it for them to cross, God had one man from each of the twelve tribes pick up a rock from the middle of the Jordan to take to the other side as a memorial of what God had done for them. Ten months ago, I was supposed to pick up my rock as a memorial, but I kind of got stuck standing in the middle of my Jordan looking back, thinking at times that maybe I could make a dash for the side I had just left. I’ve been so wrapped up in looking back and longing for what I had that I haven’t been able to move forward, to embrace life where I am. I’ve been paralyzed and isolated and have felt quite sorry for myself.
This weekend, a friend of mine gave me a word from Abba, and I am just grateful that He would speak to her on my behalf, because honestly, I’ve been a little hard of hearing lately. Those words spoke encouragement and hope to my soul. I had begun to doubt the things that Abba has done in and through me. Songs that we sang in church also spoke Abba’s love and power to me, and I’m grateful that He is Lord in this place…in Nashville, in my home, in my heart.
I still miss my friends terribly, and I always will, but it’s time…time for me to stop looking back with regrets and begin the process of moving forward, as painful and awkward as that is. It’s time for me to enter the race again. I’ve been sidelining too long. I think I’m finally ready to embrace and receive what He has here. Yeah, I’m a little nervous and anxious…stepping out is hard for me…but right now I’m fixing my eyes on Jesus and crossing my Jordan one step at a time with my rock lifted high toward heaven.
