“Let us throw off everything that hinders…” (Hebrews 12:1 NIV)
Five years ago I had a dream. I was standing on the edge of an open field, hanging on to the fence with both hands. The field was beautiful but dangerous. The golden grass waved in sure response to the slightest breeze, but also provided cover for any potential enemy. The wire fencing was riddled with barbs. Though the metal knots had snagged and bloodied my palms, they both held fast in fear. The beauty and fierceness of the open field beckoned, yet sheer panic held me kept me clutching the familiar fence line. Even amidst my consternation, I longed to dance and twirl in the center of the grassy expanse.
In the crisp, clarity of morning light, the meaning was clear. The field represented the fullness of God’s presence; the surest, most dangerous place a girl could dwell. The fencing was the initial infilling of the Holy Spirit. It had taken me years of faith and courage to finally receive that gift, to cross over that fence. But God hadn’t designed me to live at the perimeter. In fact, hanging on to the fence, fluctuating between His pursuing His presence and my chronic need to please people, was ripping me up, shredding my hands and tattering my trust.
From that morning on, I have sought to move to the center of the field, to dance and twirl and lean in to the fullness of His love. Yes, it’s perilous because, in order to move to the center of the field, we must be willing to let go of our control. It’s a flimsy thing to begin with, perception at best but still tough to part ways with. We must also confront our concern for the enemy’s agenda for the field folks. It’s true, we’ll most likely face spiritual assault, but fear has dictated our course or lack-there-of long enough. Could it be that the safest place is the center of His love? Maybe more good than safe. We have stood at the fence and gazed into the field long enough to know that the middle of the meadow is heady with the goodness of God, even if it is occasionally riddled with arrows from the other side. Danger is only a nuisance in the midst of divine pursuit.
So that morning, five years ago, I decided to let go of the fence and start moving toward the middle. Yet, every time I think I’ve gained some ground, the field grows bigger. It’s expanding, not because God is getting bigger but because He is continually revealing more of Himself to His daughter. The center of His love keeps moving, so must I.
I shared this dream and interpretation with a friend on the phone yesterday. We were discussing some opportunities and I was attempting to give her context. This vision is still fueling my decisions. My beautiful Spirit-filled sister could relate. Following God is rarely a straight line. Pursuing His heart often doesn’t make sense to the outside world. We said our goodbyes and a little while later I came across this verse.
“He stood me up in a wide-open field; I stood there saved –
surprised to be loved.” (Psalm 18:19 MSG)
This morning, I can see her; five year old Anna, arms wide, twirling and swirling in a flower-filled meadow. I can feel the belly-laugh of my Father-God. He’s waited for this moment for so long. We wear each other’s joy as sun on bare skin. My small hands are finally healed, but still I can see the scars of years spent people-pleasing. I won’t forget how it hurts to live on the fence. I will choose to dwell in the center of the field from now on.
Father God, You are faithful to call us to the center of Your love. It may not be safe, but it is good. May we be brave enough to respond affirmatively. May we learn to live in the middle of whatever
You have for us. Amen.