About 15 years ago, I participated in a Ropes Course that included an activity called Lifeline. I was blindfolded and instructed to take hold of a rope and follow it until I reached the end. Then I was to spread my arms and wait. I could see before I was blindfolded that the rope was strung tautly between trees in a dense bit of forest. I couldn’t see where the rope ended, but it looked like it went on forever, in a tangled, jungly mess. Just before I set out, blind, one hand on the rope, someone pressed an egg into my other hand and said, “This represents what is most important to you. Guard it well.”
I had to think quickly. What is most important to me? Family? My church membership? Getting home to God? Yes. How? Trust the Holy Spirit. No. Trust MY spirit.
It felt like a gift, these three little words that apparently were most important to me: trust my spirit. I remember being surprised, but the day had already been so full of Spirit that I was instantly inclined to trust it as revelation. There was no time for cognitive appraisal; it was time to begin my journey. I gripped my egg, which felt wooden in my palm, unbreakable, murmured trust my spirit, and set off into the unseen wood.
At first, it was easy. I held onto the rope with one hand, feeling my way forward, but I was keenly aware of the egg in my other hand, pulsing with warmth and truth. It felt alive in my hand. I gripped it hard, determined to protect what was most valuable, no matter what. Trust my spirit. I came to the first tree, and simply followed the rope with my fingers around the trunk and onward. This rational, sensory-based method worked for quite a while. Then it didn’t.
I followed the rope to a tree that was wrapped in so many ropes, I could not tell which was the right one. Ropes led from the tree in five different directions, so I finally made my best guess and proceeded. I ended up back at the same tree, with the same impossible dilemma. This time, I sat down on a log, my hand loosely holding the rope, and listened. It was very quiet in the wood. I knew there were other people on the same journey in the same wood, but I could hear nothing and no one. I rubbed my egg, like a magic lantern, yearning for direction. I sat for many minutes, still and quiet, tuning in to my spirit, trusting.
I don’t know how to describe what happened next. I just suddenly knew which rope to take. To trust this knowing required that I remove my hand from the rope I loosely held and grab a different one. I stood up with sudden sure purpose and complete confidence, let go of my old rope, grabbed the new one, and walked forward. In just ten steps, I felt the frayed rope end in my hand. I was at the end of the course. I could not believe that it was so simple, that I had arrived so soon, so I just stood there. I still heard no sound at all. I turned around, thinking maybe I should go back. But just in case, and feeling a bit foolish, I faced forward and slowly spread my arms wide.
Immediately, I was enveloped in a warm, tight embrace. My instinctive reaction was, “Oh, it’s Mother!” I was still holding the end of the rope, but She knocked it out of my hand and led me gently to a log, where we sat in silence side by side. I felt completely at peace. I could feel the sun on my face and my egg, warm and whole in my grateful hand. I knew that I had arrived Home only by trusting my spirit.
I am going to stop here, because rather than tell you how this experience dramatically changed my relationship with Diety and how it informed difficult decisions in the years to come, I want to hear what this story sparks in you. I will tell you that it wasn’t a wooden egg; it was a plain, raw chicken egg, fragile as anything. Many people lost or broke their egg on their journey. I am astounded that mine survived, given how tightly I held onto it. I keep a marble egg on my desk now and hold it reverently when I need to remember to trust my spirit. Of course, it is really about trusting the Holy Spirit. But I have to trust that my spirit can and does accurately discern God’s Spirit. This is my Liahona, my compass Home. Trust my spirit.
What is most important to you? How do you guard that? How do you trust yourself to know which way to go, what to do, what is God’s will in your life?
I've been trying to craft a response forceful enough to show just how much this post means to me. SO MUCH, is how much. I have been loitering at that last tree for months and months; just a few weeks ago I finally let myself grab that new rope, and God has swept me up in a big hug. Doing so has been really scary, and I still worry about what people would think of me if I were open about these particular choices (and worst of all, what my teenaged self would think of me, God forbid). But feeling God's light, warm on my face, is worth every single fear or judgment.
Thank you, Jes. It IS scary, because as we grow spiritually, we are often directed in ways we never dreamed (e.g. "kill Laban", "sacrifice Isaac", "go tell Pharaoh you're leaving"). So kudos to you for your faith and courage.
And here is the reward: "But feeling God’s light, warm on my face, is worth every single fear or judgment."
Yes. It's all for God.
I've come back countless times to reread this, Lisa, and love it more each time.
I'm struggling at the moment with going the way the Lord wants – I'll go, but I'm dragging my feet and mourning what I wanted, which is not the road He's put me on. But I do know it's His will, and my spirit is stubborn enough to follow (even if I do throw some temper tantrums on the way).
Your "stubborn" is God's "faithful", Kel. I think it's OK to mourn and rant all we need to (but no more than we need to) as long as we stay on the path and wait with faith and hope and pure love for that longed-for day when we see Him face to face. It will come.
This really is special. Thanks for sharing, Lisa. Through these words, your spirit spoke to my spirit 🙂