Learning to Walk

Photo by Rebecca Cravens - P.S. This is not our current neighborhood. 😊

            Our neighborhood isn't the worst in town, but it is sketchy at times.  I'm not overly comfortable walking the dogs by myself, though I have done it occasionally.  When I do go by myself, I am tense and easily startled.  I much prefer to have my husband at my side.  His presence offers a sense of security that allows me to rest at ease and enjoy the walk.

My Friend and Her Son

In a similar way, I can sense a difference between when I am consciously walking with God throughout my day and when I have wandered off on my own.  In Psalm 16:8, David writes, "I have set the LORD continually before me; because He is at my right hand, I will not be shaken."  When I cling to Jesus's hands in each moment like a child clings to his parents when he is first learning to walk, I have no reason to fear, worry, or be shocked at whatever comes my way.  He's holding, directing, and shielding me, and I am free to learn, explore, and laugh.  However, the moment I let go of Him and try to do it myself, I quickly learn that I don't know what I'm doing, and I find myself shaken and bruised as I smack into the ground.

Gently, with my own pain etched across His face, God picks me up again.  He asks, "Dear child, why did you let go?"  Unlike the child whom we hope will mature and learn to walk on his own apart from the help of his parents, we weren't made to outgrow our dependence on God.  John 15:5 confirms this when it says, "I am the vine, you are the branches; he who abides in Me and I in him, he bears much fruit, for apart from Me you can do nothing."  As we dwell in His presence, step by step, He produces vibrant life and rich fruit in our souls.  On the other hand, pulling away from the Source of life reduces us to chaff: useless, dry, abrasive, cracked, and empty shells of what we could be.  Not only that, but the longer we stay cut off from the Giver of life and good gifts, the more we become enveloped and consumed by the dry, deceptive, and arid land around us that constitutes the world and everything it offers. 

Abiding in Jesus isn't drudgery.  It isn't a rigid adherence to a dreadful and eternal list of impossible do's and don'ts.  Neither is it a suffocating and stifling insistence upon keeping oneself bound up in chains of false shame and guilt.  Walking with the Most High does not mean that we are doomed to robotic lives of joy-killed misery.  It certainly does not describe a life of stubborn, apathetic, or comfortable independence that only turns to Jesus when He seems appealing.

Abiding in Jesus means we stick with Him in every moment and in every circumstance.  We cultivate our relationship with Him by talking to Him and listening to Him as we go about our business, by remaining aware of His presence throughout the day, and by obeying His leading.  To abide in Christ, we must make time to be still before Him and to wait on Him.  We must realize that our relationship with Him doesn't affect just one part of our life, but that it transforms every aspect of our life.  Abiding in Christ is about a relationship: a relationship that is absolutely vital and apart from which we will certainly find ourselves shaken. 

We need Him desperately.  I need Him desperately.  Clinging to Him sets me free, fills me up, gives me purpose, and causes me to flourish.  That's what He wants for us.  He wants us to be green, lush, and wild with His life that springs up from His Spirit within us.  Why would we ever choose to grieve Him by letting go?