SOCHEWS

“See what I’ve given you? Safe passage as you walk on snakes and scorpions, and protection from every assault of the Enemy. No one can put a hand on you … At that, Jesus rejoiced, exuberant in the Holy Spirit. “I thank You, Father, Master of heaven and earth, that you hid these things from the know-it-alls and showed them to these innocent newcomers.” (Luke 10:19,21)

Seventy disciples of ordinary stature were chosen and sent out. Sent out to preach good news, heal the sick, and perform miracles if necessary. They came back en-couraged, full of testimonies of seeing evil fall from its perch. And Jesus rejoiced in the power of their ordinariness.

Today is my birthday. I rejoice in the encouragements of those around me, those so dear. I’m blessed. Through ups and downs, I’m blessed. In the private moments or public spaces, I’m blessed. Yet, there is a phrase that’s resonating in my heart, causing it to churn and barrel in a mixture of excitement, and yet fear.

What if?

What if I lived life knowing I’m safe, protected?

What if I know, with clarity and certainty, that God was my refuge, and nothing, no one, not voices or snickering or my own iniquities, could take that away from me?

What if I could trample on snakes and scorpions?

What if I walked through every day knowing the enemies of fame, glory, praises of men, desires of the flesh, lust of the eyes, pride of life, would not harm me?

What if I had that kind of freedom?

What could I do?

Who could I be?

How different would every day be?

What if?

The crux of this is that it’s easy to dismiss. Because who am I but a child struggling to move from the toys I play with to bigger things. A man with holes, and who fills it with so many temporal pursuits, who stumbles again and again. Why get on a train of the ‘what if’s if you never believe you could reach its destination?

But Jesus looks at my ordinariness, looks to the heavens, and exclaims, “I thank You Father, for revealing your kingdom not to the know-it-alls, the people who have it all together, the well-mannered or self-assured, but to newborns, babies, children.” These are the ones Jesus is fond of. The ordinary ones who step out and see extraordinary things. Because their faith is so radically out of place in a world of doubt and jadedness. Because they ask, “What if?” and actually dedicate their hearts, minds and strength to answering those questions.

Make no mistake: this is scary shit. All manners of arrows point at me, seeking to bring me down at the wounds I know so well. The shame over repeated failures. The belief that I can do it, be better.

But that’s courage, isn’t it Father? When I let the what ifs of life propel me into action, change my way of thinking and living. And if I fail? I think the beauty of failure is that even in failure, God protects me. Even failure has no hold. Even failure cannot stop the heart from seeking love, hope, faith. That’s when the assaults will hurt, will sting, but never destroy or separate. These are the children of God, who step into the world like they’re born again, free from cynicism, free from the “I’ve seen that, done that” spirit, who look at life and those around with a fresh, wide-eyed wonder. Who look at themselves, at my world and ask:

“What if God actually works, in me and through me?”

And the heavens rejoice. The children are free.

Oh Father, I thank you, for you are always with me. I am yours. Your child.

What if I listened to You? Teach me to hear your Spirit. To step on scorpions, to be born again.

Amen.