Get Out of the Tent

           The Lord had said to Abram, “Go from your country, your people and your father’s household to the land I will show you. I will make you into a great nation, and I will bless you; I will make your name great, and you will be a blessing.  I will bless those who bless you, and whoever curses you I will curse; and all peoples on earth will be blessed through you.”  (Genesis 12:1-3)

          He took him outside and said, “Look up at the sky and count the stars—if indeed you can count them.” Then he said to him, “So shall your offspring be.”

 Abram believed the Lord, and he credited it to him as righteousness. (Genesis 15:5-6)

 

I took yesterday (Wednesday) off to visit a park, to give my hands a rest from weeding, and happened to listen to three Joyce Meyers sermons about hope. I’m not a bit fan of Mrs. Meyers, but I am of the subject and my next “novel that authors should read” hasn’t come in on hold for me yet. She quoted Genesis 15:5 (above) and said something that brought the earlier verses to mind. “God took Abram outside of the tent.” She went on to talk about the fact that sometimes, you just need to get outside of the situation. My friend, Sandy, would say that sometimes, you just need to reframe the situation.

When we’re in our tents, our homes, our jobs, our neighborhoods, etc., sometimes we get comfortably uncomfortable. We’re facing the same old problems we’ve been complaining about for years (even if it’s only been a few days.) When I started taking care of my father, it seemed to me that God was taking me out of my home, to a land I didn’t know. I’ve been relating to Abraham ever since, even to the point of naming my truck Abraham.

Yesterday’s trip had been planned as far as “On Wednesdays, I’m going to go to a park and take pictures.” However, the water system in my park is still broken, so getting out of the park also meant easier access (I hoped) to restrooms that work and water, and freedom from people complaining about the lack of water.

Ironically, I chose Brooker Creek park, which includes in its description of the trails that they are natural, and include both wet and dry areas – meaning that one might encounter mud. But, the signs and brochure made it clear that we were to stay on the designated pathways. Muddy. They said muddy. The first part of the path was quite nice. Then I started encountering puddles. The puddles turned into ponds. Most of the time, I could follow where others had clearly cut higher paths – where we weren’t technically supposed to go. Eventually, I ended up with one foot in the water, just below where it would run into my shoe. Finally, I reached a place where the only way forward was to slog through ten-inch-deep water. I wasn’t worried about gators, but I was worried about leeches.

I finally reached the point where I suspected that I was on a part of the trail that was far longer than I wanted to walk, especially in water, so I went back the way I’d come. I kept asking God what I was supposed to be learning from this, and how I could turn it into not only a learning experience, but an adventure. Wasn’t that what this was? An adventure?

To tell you the truth, I’m not sure what I’m supposed to learn from the experience, but I do have to laugh, because I went from where the problem was water available only with effort to water, water everywhere. When I left that park, I checked my GPS and drove ten miles west to the Anclote parks, where I got to see the Gulf of Mexico, even more water. After all that, I came home, took buckets over to where there is water available and brough home enough that I could warm some up and stick my head in a bucket – and wash hair that hadn’t been washed in several days and needed it.

Maybe the lesson is just what Joyce Meyers said, sometimes, we need to get out of the tent, to get a better perspective of what God is doing. Sometimes, it helps us figure out what the lack we’re facing isn’t as bad as the overabundance that is its opposite. And, sometimes, it is just that the situation isn’t as bad as we tend to believe it. That brings me back to the lesson I’ve been trying to teach others about the pandemic. Don’t be stupid. Don’t over-react. Don’t be stupid. Don’t under-react.

I made it through yesterday, with is miniature challenges and minor frustrations. Getting out of the tent helped, just not in the way I thought it would.