Posture

Monday - Back in my room, I sit down at the desk and pull out a small plastic tub that holds my journals from the past few years. I have come to this place seeking discernment for the book that I am to write. I set out my pens and highlighters and prepare to work.

As I stare at the notebooks, I am overwhelmed with the thought of the task ahead - a book. <Sigh> I have no idea where to start. <Sigh> In fact, I don't even feel compelled to start. That tells me something.

This doesn't seem to be where You want me to focus, Lord. Now what?

Silence wraps itself around my question. I head back to the veranda for some more rocking chair therapy. Before long the Lord's question from earlier in the day comes to me again,

"Do you want to fly, Denise?"

This time there are no tears or hesitation as I answer,

Yes, Lord, I want to fly.

I continue rocking and watch as the sky slowly fills with soaring vultures and turkey vultures. Say what you will about these scavenger birds, in this place, in this setting, they are simply God's magnificent creatures. Their outstretched wings easily span a distance of five to six feet. I marvel as they catch the unseen wind currents and float effortlessly in long, lazy spirals. More and more birds join the flying celebration. I try to count them but lose track after I reach thirty.

I go to bed that evening with flying on my mind. Around 4 a.m. the mournful, frenzied sound of howling coyotes pulls me from my dreams. Rolling over, I manage to fall back to sleep until 5 a.m. and then I am up for the day.
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Tuesday - By 6:30 a.m. I leave the Big House and walk towards the Chapel in the gray shadows where the dawn chases away the dark. Bats dart back and forth in the sky. No wonder there aren't many mosquitoes here. I see two rabbits chasing each other in the grass. Hello there. My eyes widen as I approach and then pass an 8 pt. buck grazing not more than ten feet away. He didn't even flinch when I walked by!

The wonder of this place is hard to describe. Each time I visit I am delighted anew. I have tried and failed to explain it to my family and friends. The animals who live here are not tame and yet they are not afraid. They have learned to coexist with the humans who are here. Peaceful silence and holy prayers have bathed this place for decades. God is here and the animals know it and live in the sanctuary of His presence.

I am early for the morning Communion service so I take a seat and wait. The wall behind the simple altar is covered in a massive, primitive looking cross made from beautifully aged wood. It demands my attention and I study it in detail. After five minutes or so, He asks,

"Do you want to fly?"

He knows the answer and so He continues,

"Open your hands. Spread your arms wide."

I am looking at the cross as He speaks to me. His intention is clear and I make the connection immediately.

The posture of flying is the posture of dying.

If I open up my hands and let go of all that I am holding...if I spread my arms wide in order to sail on the wind...then I am saying, "yes" to dying on the cross. Tears roll down my cheeks at the simplicity and the weight of His words.

The posture of flying is the posture of dying on the cross.
They are one and the same.

My heart breaks with an understanding that is beyond my human brain. I cannot take my eyes off of the cross. Something deep inside my soul has been touched and I can do nothing but cry in quiet response. He is calling me to a deeper place, a deeper commitment, where flying with Christ and dying with Christ will be closely intertwined.

"Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before him endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God." --Hebrews 12:2

Flying and dying...one and the same.