I remember where I was sitting when I got the news. I was at the top of the hill across from the house Barry and I were renting in Laguna Niguel, California. We climbed that hill with Bentley, our golden retriever, every morning and every evening. Barry and I had been married for a year and a half, and I was both turning forty and pregnant, so the climb took a little longer every day.
We were in a sweet place in our marriage, but financially we were bleeding to death. Barry had left one job and was looking for another, and our savings were rapidly disappearing. But a couple of weeks before this particular evening hike, I had been invited to lead worship at a new conference called Women of Faith. I was tempted to say yes because it would be regular income for at least a year, but I knew that leading worship was not my gift. So I thanked them and recommended a woman I knew.
“Lord, we are leaning on You and trusting You for what we can’t see” had become our daily prayer.
Then, as the sun set over the ocean, my cell phone rang. The conversation again turned to that new conference for women, and I said, “Yes, I had a call a couple of weeks ago, but honestly, I’m not a worship leader.”
“That’s not why I’m calling,” said the person at the other end of the line. “I want you to join the speaking team.”
In one moment Barry and I went from wondering if you can reuse disposable diapers to thanking God for this beautiful far-greater-than-we-could-have-asked-or-imagined gift. It felt like we had experienced a miracle: God had opened a path through our financially impassible way just as He had opened up the Red Sea before the Israelites.
But God doesn’t necessarily repeat a miracle when you find yourself at another impassible way. I write now at the end of a hard day. I’ve been with my Women of Faith team for eighteen years, but recently, based on the input of scripture, godly friends, and the indwelling Holy Spirit, I saw clearly that it was time to move on.
“But what’s next, Lord?” I asked him just this morning. “Would You show me where You want me to serve You next?”
In my spirit all I could hear was “Step into the water.”
“I want to be responsible, Lord. We have bills to pay and a son about to go to college.”
“Step into the water.”
When the Israelites stood before the Jordan River, it was the second time they faced a body of water as an obstacle. But before God parted the waters this time, His people had to get their feet wet. Only as they stepped in — only as they took that literal step of faith and trusted God — did He part the waters for them.
Like me, are you facing a river that looks impossible to cross? Well, I’m about to step into the water, trusting God, leaving the outcome to Him. Will you join me?