The second stop on our Prayer Walk was the firepit where there was a bucket of sand. The instructions were to scoop up a handful of sand and hold it tightly.
Ask God: What it is I'm holding on to so tightly that is keeping me from living the free and abundant life that You me to be living? I looked at my sand and thought of all the what ifs that lay ahead. Church. Marriage. Country. House. Aging parents. Kids. Job. Retirement. Empty nest.
Tomorrow's worries. Next year's decisions. Eventual plans. Many of mine were mostly fraught with deep-down fear.
The idea was to let them all go and then brush them off deliberately, not letting them stick to you. Open your hand to let God fill it.
Then walk down to the end of pier...
find a Sharpie and a stone
and name that thing you were holding on to so tightly.
My many things could all be summed up in one label: "Future."
Probably more specifically fear of the future, but I wrote
the word that kept coming to me:
Pick up that stone and surrender it to God, then cast it as hard as you can
into the sea. God can still see it. But I can't. In reality, I never could.
I was holding on tightly to something that was weighing me down.
The future I had no control over.
Now I could focus on the beauty of that which is now,
that which is beautiful up close, in all its color and brokenness.
The birds of the air had no care of the future. They thrive on the here and now, knowing instinctively that God is their provider. All they have to do is fly and watch and trust.
(to be continued)