When I was a kid, I used to love taking walks in the winter,
especially when the snow was on the ground. In the mountains of southern
Oregon, the coldest days in the heart of winter left everything covered in
white. The roads were a hard sheet of packed snow. Many days the sun would break through and
warm things up just enough that there would be puddles along the side of the
road. In the early morning on the way to school, these little frozen puddles
were a game just waiting to be played.
They were never more than a few inches deep. The chilling temperatures
of the night before would leave them covered in a thin sheet of ice, or perhaps
even frozen completely through. That was the game.
I used to seek out these puddles along the way and try to
guess if they were frozen solid enough to hold my weight. Finding one and
making my guess, I would gingerly step on the ice, hoping it would hold. Often
it held, but many times, much to my glee, it would almost hold and then crash
away, dropping my foot with a splash. I never really wanted to get my foot wet,
out there in the cold, but the thrill of either standing on solid ice or
leaping to get my foot out before it soaked my shoe was much more than worth
the risk. As I grew bigger, solid ice was harder to find, but my ability to
discern what might hold and what might not also grew. Experience had taught me
to read the signs and more accurately predict what could hold me and what could
not.
Faith is kind of like that. In faith, there exists a tension
between the unbelievable and the undeniable. I would never step onto the thin
crust of a puddle I thought was deeper than my shoe top, unless I had some
strong assurance from puddles around it that it would hold. At first it might have seemed hard to believe
that the temperature the night before was cold enough to freeze such a puddle
so solid that I could stand on it. However, if I had experienced enough puddles
along the way that had held me, I could conjure up enough courage to step onto
that bigger, deeper puddle and hope it would hold. The idea that it could hold
me may have seemed unbelievable, but with enough confidence to step on it and
then see it hold, the unbelievable became undeniable. I would then encourage my
friend or my sister to try it. If it were large enough, we might even see how
many of us it would hold before breaking.
In the Gospel of John, the author tells us that he shares
these miracle stories – he calls them signs - so that hearing of them we may
believe that Jesus is the Son of God. The signs are stories of healing the
sick, and amazing tricks like turning water to wine or multiplying bread and
fish to feed a crowd, even raising the dead. To us these stories seem utterly
impossible – completely unbelievable. However to John, and those who witnessed
Jesus do these things and many others, these unbelievable feats became
undeniable. They now stand as witnesses to us. They are standing on the frozen
pond, deep enough to completely soak any who fall through, saying “Come on
out!” They are thrilled to not only stand on the ice, but to run, jump, and
skate around in the freedom of knowing it will not fall away under their feet.
Are you willing to take the risk and trust the ice to hold you? That first step
of faith is the hardest. After that, experience builds confidence and faith
slowly brings peace and freedom without fear.
Blessings,
Jack
