It’s been weeks since I’ve written… weeks since my life was in a known routine that left me with enough mental ability to blog. The end of the school year brought yet another season change, and as per usual, my change adverse brain has been taking months to sort through all the new dynamics. I’m definitely not through that part yet, but grace is triumphing against the deepest waters and it’s time to write again.
And maybe the best place to start is with the very thing I know right now.
I’ve never been a fan of change in any form. Even changes I am thrilled about often take me awhile to process. Sometimes months. Sometimes years.
In the last year, more has changed in my life than any other year I’ve ever lived. My family has moved across states… I’ve moved away from home to volunteer for a year and then moved back in with my family in their new home… My plans for the future have undergone many surrenders and settled on following a path I do not fully understand… not to mention many other changes that He’s worked that can’t be shared with the world.
Adjusting to all of them has had it’s ups and downs— it’s moments of frustration and it’s moments of surrender. Because you know those times when God points to a path that goes right through the middle of the Red Sea and we’re convinced there is no way we can follow? Yeah, that’s how this change has looked from my human vantage point.
Miles flew by outside my car window the other day as I brought Him my plight for the thousandth time (quite possibly no exaggeration).
“How do I walk the path You’ve set before me when it seems impossible? How do we cross Red Seas today?”
That’s the question I’ve been asking for weeks. Months actually.
He’s gently answered my questions every time but this time the answer actually penetrated into my whirring brain.
You believe. You believe. It’s that simple.
I’ll admit it. I argued at first. I told Him is wasn’t that easy. That I already knew about believing but I was too tired to try. That I’d been trying for weeks anyway and it hadn’t worked. That it was impossible for the sea to be crossed and He knew it.
But deep down I knew something else. I knew He was right.
And slowly it sunk in…
The only thing that renders obedience impossible is that we deem it to be.
Sure, the Red Sea was uncrossable to all appearances. Human eyes could see absolutely no way. Every argument could have been given that God’s command to cross was ridiculous and impossible.
But it wasn’t. Faith saw beyond the impossible straight through to the heart of God.
And the eyes that see the heart of God, trust the hand of God.
With vision like that and a choice to follow, the billows rolled back and a path safe and dry appeared right through the middle of the sea.
The impossible was made possible through belief.
Maybe the reason we don’t see Red Seas rolled back today is simply because we don’t believe they can be. Nothing is impossible with God, but we keep far too much in the realm of impossibility because we don’t believe His heart and hand.
Because God can’t act when we won’t believe.
I ponder the truth of it and the question spins around my mind… Does that mean we get to determine what is and isn’t possible in our lives?
So yeah, I’ve been standing in front of my Red Sea and telling Him it isn’t possible. I’ve been listing all the reasons long into the night. He’s calmed me over and over and for a few moments I’ve been stilled but before I know it, all the reasons come back and I’m hashing it out with Him again— or more often, sitting with a heart numb and silent because I’ve convinced myself there is no way and that I must sit at the edge of the sea in longing for the rest of my life.
While I have my mind on all the reasons the sea is impossible to cross, it is indeed. I’ve blocked Him from doing a miracle because I don’t think He can.
I’ve rendered the possible, impossible.
As the car sped along I asked Him for the thousandth time how I could live when every directions I turned were walls of water.
He told me it wasn’t about what I could see. It wasn’t about what seemed to be my reality. It wasn’t about any of the facts I held onto and constantly reminded Him of.
It was about His reality. That He parts seas. That He does miracles. That nothing is impossible with Him. That His heart loves and His hand moves.
I knew all those things. I’d tasted them, lived them, and loved them more than anything else. Truth was, I still did. It’s just that somehow my eyes had transitioned from the truth that mattered most to me, to the “facts” that were nearest.
I’d stopped believing He really could do impossible things.
But my Jesus never leaves me stuck when I call out for help. He whispered gently that the only way out of my hole was to believe. To give up all my reasons and lean solely on His. To stop making the possible impossible for Him by my unbelief.
And you know, sometimes believing can seem like the most precarious thing in the world. When every single one of our senses is telling us one thing and His Word is screaming another…
That’s when it comes down to raw faith. Real love.
Do I trust me? Or do I trust Him?
Who do I believe?
More miles slipped by and I made my choice. There were no accompanying feelings. No warm glow that made this feel right.
But then again, who said I needed that? Weren’t the thousands of words about the way He has worked in my life in my prayer journal enough? Weren’t the countless letters that transcribed our relationship worth something? What about the promises He has made me over and over again?
I pull out my Bible and open up to Hebrews 11. I know that if I am to firmly believe in possibilities that seem as distant as Everest, I’m going to have to fill my mind with this stuff— and block it to every doubt.
I read and my confidence runs deeper.
Every strong man, every miracle, every legend for all of history—every story— required an act of faith.
Would there even be a Bible if there were never to have been faith in the earth? Would there be any beautiful story if no man had chosen to believe? What if every heart had rendered His glorious possibilities impossible?
There would have been salvation, but what if there was no man to claim it— no man to believe it? There would have been the best Friend any could ask for, but what if there was no man willing to trust His heart? There would have been promises, but what if no one would take Him at His word?
What if we are the ones who determine how great a story God can write by what we believe is possible for Him?
Perhaps the Red Sea would have stayed closed if there had been no faith in the power of God to part it… Maybe Israel could ever have crossed if they had not taken a step forward.
I wonder too if our Red Seas today stay closed because we don't take a step forward.
What if there is a story as big as the ones recorded in Hebrews that He wants to write in our lives, but can’t because we’ve spent so long telling Him it’s impossible?
What if we stopped rendering our seas uncrossable and simply believed Him?
What if we trusted His heart more than our own?
Stories are still written in the books of heaven. This time not that of Hebrews 11, of Abraham, Enoch, Isaac, and Jacob. Instead, ours. And I wonder what will be said.
Will there be records of seas opened and impossibilities turned reality?
Days pass-- I put belief into action and right in front of me I watch Him open the sea and point to a way through. It's not very wide but it's wide enough. I start walking and with each step I feel His hands under my feet bouying me up.
I'm not through yet. I can't tell you how the story ends. Except maybe I can... because He is always faithful and this is no exception.
I look back and smile at the truth.
My impossibility became possible.
When I believed.