Faith Has Shoes

There is a story in the Bible that has been on my mind these past few months.

In this bizarre and significant event, God promised a very old Abraham and his equally grey-haired wife Sarah, a baby. Sarah soon gave birth to their son, Isaac. The promise was fulfilled! Nice. Very nice.

Then, just as things were moving along smoothly in the direction that God had set up for them, God tested Abraham by instructing him to take a short trip to a mountain, build an altar and kill his son Isaac as a burnt offering in worship to God, instead of using an animal, as was the custom . . . Wait, what?

(Now there is more, SO MUCH MORE, to this story than I am touching on, so please, feel free to make a coffee, settle in and read the passage here or go back to Genesis 12 and start from there.)

Spoiler alert: God provided a way out at the last second, but Abraham’s faith was rock solid - even in light of this very strange instruction from God. And even though all of that is amazing - and hard to understand - that is not the part that intrigued me this time. It is what Abraham did after God gave him the instructions.

He started packing.

He loaded up the donkey, he cut firewood, he probably sharpened his knife, packed some rope, made some trail-mix, some jerky and organized a few servants to come along. He probably kissed his wife goodbye, fed the goats and closed the gate behind them as they left. His faith had shoes. He walked it out.

I imagine, however, that his mind was racing, his heart pounding, and the question that rolled over and over in his mind as he walked was . . . “Why?” I mean, this very instruction cancels out not only his son’s life, a miracle, but the promise that God had given him in the first place. It made no sense. But he walked on.

So, aside from all the other significant things about this story, I’ve stayed with this one thought: Am I walking out what God is asking me to do? Does my faith have shoes? Am I procrastinating, avoiding, stress-eating, wandering around in circles or am I simply, and obediently packing, making preparations, and walking it out.

Personally, I feel I am at a similar place (although CLEARLY not as drastic and strange as this story!).

This past year, with a now empty-nest as our sons moved out, and even our dog moved out to our friend’s house in the country, I began to imagine what this next season would be about. I thought about the direction that I thought God has been leading me in, my life experience, my dreams, my degrees and my interests and wondered if it was now time to take bigger steps forward into the middle of all of what I’ve been training for. However, my endometriosis has taken a turn for the worse and I’ve had to slowly and regularly let go of my responsibilities, my interests and my dreams. While I wait for surgery to hopefully provide relief of the pain and symptoms, I’ve been housebound, with pain meds and rest and healthy pain distractions as the main tasks of my day.

I’ve been here before, in various degrees, many times. However, this particular batch of pain and symptoms is similar to 27 years ago when I was first diagnosed so even though I have some skills at living with chronic pain, this is feeling pretty heavy. So, I’ve been letting go of things, slowly, painfully and with a struggle. I enjoy SO MANY of the tasks and responsibilities, volunteer opportunities and creative ideas. It has been difficult.

So I’ve been praying, “Lord, didn’t You set me up to go this direction? Wasn’t I going the way that You led me? Wasn’t there a reason for my training, my degree, my experience? Why now, is my life reduced to such simplicity? Simplicity that includes pain. And why the sudden change in direction?”

And what did Abraham do when his questions were unanswered? He started walking. He started packing. His faith had shoes.

So . . . what does walking-faith look like for me?

And for you?