Recently, we were able to take one of our daughters to the zoo. Never mind the tears threatening to well up when I remember all the trips to zoos when they were little, filled with awe and wonder. I remember the gasps, the giggles, and the excitement of getting an animal to look your way or respond to any noise you make. I confess, I’m still that kid. The glances I share with my wife and daughters at the zoo tell me they’ve still got that kid within them as well.
It’s easy to experience the wonder and grace of nature when watching an animal swim deep underwater. Gazing through thick glass that somehow holds back an entire environment from crashing through, it’s inspiring to watch their eyes close in what feels like delight as their body does what it was made so naturally to do. Smooth bodies sailing through cosmic flows of H20 with little resistance to hinder, as if one flipper can send them soaring to distant oceans (were it not for the size of their tank).
In such a moment, it strikes me as an apropos reminder of our local church (yours too – really any local church where the Spirit of Jesus is present) in our best moments. Here is an environment where a New Creation (see 2 Cor. 5:17) can swim undaunted through waters of loving and being loved, forgiving as a knee-jerk reaction, seeing all that happens in the context of His glory. We gather each week, soaring through baptism waters of Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. It’s inspiring to look around, seeing one another do what we (as New Creations) were re-made so supernaturally to do. Worshiping and loving with little resistance to hinder, as if one raised hand or “Amen” can send us soaring to new experiences of the Kingdom of Jesus (or at least to meet Him at the altar).
Have you seen that same seal as it unceremoniously flops out of the water onto dry land? It scoots as best it can across the hard ground, obviously struggling to accomplish what it needs until it can, in sweet relief, flop back into the water – once again transformed into the graceful creature we love to observe.
Some of us feel the same way as we leave the sanctuary each Sunday around noon (hopefully in time for _______). The ease of movement in His Spirit falls quickly away, and we find ourselves scooting uncomfortably across the pavement, with our journey seeming about as natural as….well, a seal out of water. Forgiveness scrapes our hides. Hurry dries our eyes. Anxiety chafes our once baptism-moist skin cells, and we bark at one another until we can drop off the edge and into the waters once more.
Some of us can’t make it to next Sunday, so we’ll join on Wednesdays. Some of us can’t even make it until then, so we have been thankful to discover our ability to swim through pools of personal times in prayer and devotion.
But what if?
What if becoming a follower of Jesus, and receiving new life by His Holy Spirit, was about discovering God’s Kingdom now flooding all of time and space? What if we were those who could love unhindered by what previously held us back? What if one moment of prayer could supernaturally propel us into New Creation experiences of His presence and peace? What if we could rest in His Holiness, safe and securely attached in our identity as His beloved, rather than attempting to attain/prove/or defend success by our own efforts? What if we joined on Sundays, Wednesdays, and even in our personal moments – not desperately parched – but gratefully aware of His continuously available presence and love?
I’m guessing we’d want to close our eyes and smile a bit. Or open them wider in wonder. (Thankfully, I’m guessing we’d have the little clear eye-flappy thing to protect our eyes so they could stay open.)
words from wick 