I pulled into the small parking lot by Staring Lake and turned into the same space I parked every morning during a couple of the most tear-filled years of my life. It had been awhile since I visited this “thin place” where heaven met earth and God entered my pain.
On the paved lake path, through leafy trees that, over the years, morphed from yellow to green to red to bare black limbs that looked like witches arms, I walked daily, pouring out my confused heart to God. Begging, questioning, accusing.
It doesn’t really matter the specifics of my circumstances. Probably you too have, or had, or will have a dark season when you realize there’s nothing you can do to “fix” things and make them the way you want or the way you are sure, in a just world, they’d be.
As I walked the path today, with the perspective of almost 20 years, what struck me was life side by side with death. Saplings next to mature oaks, beside rotted logs. Life, death, rebirth, renewal.
Years ago on this path I clung to dreams that were meant to die until I gradually loosened my grip.
I didn’t recognize what the new shoots of growth would become. I had to choose life in whatever small form it appeared.
This holy, ordinary place has made me think of other wilderness spots where people in the Bible ran from God and were met by Him. Hagar in the desert (Genesis 16:13), Jacob at Bethel (Genesis 28:16), Moses and the burning bush (Exodus 3), Elijah under the broom tree (1 Kings 19), Paul on the road to Damascus (Acts 9).
In each of these there had to be a death – death of a wrong view of God, or death of a perception of control, or death of a dream of how life would look.
But there was also new life. It looked different and may not have been immediately recognizable, but there was life, and growth, and it was better. Maybe not more comfortable or predictable or “safe” in a worldly sense, but richer, more meaningful, eternally secure.
Reflect on this continuous process of life and death and life again.
- What plans are you clutching that you need to let go of?
- Where is there death that you need to grieve?
- Where is there evidence (even tiny and even if you’re not sure what it will turn out looking like) of new life that God wants to nurture?
- Is there a physical place where God has met you in the past that you may want to visit to remember His faithfulness?
Oh my! This post brings back so many memories of my walks around Staring Lake with my friend Janet Griffing. I remember seeing you there! It was before we started attending CPC so I didn’t know you at the time, but Janet knew who you were.
Your words make me ponder a lot of loss in my life in the past few years and leaving Minnesota is one of them. I’m turning 70 soon and with it comes all the challenges—more for my husband than myself, but, of course his challenges include me too. We live in Fredericksburg Virginia now, close to my son and his family.
Thanks so much for sharing this! I can’t go back to Staring physically, but I can through you pictures and I want to settle there with God in that thin place!
Ohmygosh! This brings me such joy! I’m sorry for the loss you’ve experienced. I wish we could take a walk at Staring and you could tell me all about it. I pray you will find new thin places in your new home area.
Oh, Laura, this too was true for me during a time that was so gut-wrenchingly dark. I remember your reaching out to me then; praying, praying. Indeed the darkest times, the thinnest places have worked together for good. Not the good that I’d hoped for, but one for which I’m eternally and deeply grateful. We learn so many sacred things from those times!! Thank you for your wise words.
We all need each other! You have been a faithful pray-er and encourager and I’m so grateful!!