Every time a crisis faces us we experience a sense of abandonment as it’s a clash of wills–ours over the perfection of our adversary. My friend, life’s a story, stayed tuned for more on This Passing Day.
I’ve been recording these daily devotions around 4:30 in the morning for nearly fifteen years. That’s nearly 4,000 recording sessions. Monday through Friday I position the microphone, put the script up on my computer screen, boot the recording software and get ready to click the key to initiate the recording. Having done this thousands of times, one would think that it would be nearly mindless, automatic; it isn’t. Every morning I hesitate before clicking that key, knowing that once the session is rolling the microphone will pick up every mistake. Even though there is a shock ring to absorb a bump here and there and a pop filter to eliminate ‘popping’ sounds caused by the mechanical impact of fast moving air, there’s an inherent risk every time the red light blinks on that mic. A pause might be misplaced, a sentence skipped, poor inflection used or, even worse, a word crushed by my sometimes thick tongue. My heart rate speeds up every time I hit that key.
Every time I line that microphone up with my mouth I experience a sense of abandonment as it’s just me and the microphone and the clash of wills–mine over the perfection of the software.
Here’s a story. During WWII six Navy pilots left their aircraft carrier on a mission. After searching the seas for enemy submarines, they tried to return to their ship shortly after dark. There was a heavy presence of enemy ships in the area, so the captain had ordered a blackout of all lights on the ship. As the Navy pilots returned to the area where the carrier was located they noticed that it was impossible to see the landing deck or even the carrier itself. Over and over the frantic pilots radioed, asking for just one light so they could get a perspective on landing. But the pilots were told that the blackout could not be lifted since the danger of enemy aircraft in the area was too high. After several appeals and denials of their request, the ship’s operator turned the switch to break radio contact–and the pilots were forced to ditch in the ocean. The pilots, experiencing an intense sense of abandonment, had no alternative other than to take their chances with a crash landing on the surface of the sea. (Today in the Word, MBI, October, 1991, p. 12.)
John 21:7 relates this beautiful story of the abandonment of will. “Then the disciple whom Jesus loved said to Peter, ‘It is the Lord!’ As soon as Simon Peter heard him say, ‘It is the Lord,’ he wrapped his outer garment around him . . . and jumped into the water.” Peter risked much when he took that first step onto the sea, the depths of which could have easily swallowed him in a moment. I believe that his will told him to stay on board, just as my will tells me Monday through Friday not to press that recording key. Yet, in order to join himself to the will of his Savior beckoning him, he needed to overcome the will to stay when he needed to go. Like that sense of abandonment those pilots felt, Peter likely felt more alone at that moment than he ever had in his life. There’s a lesson here for you and I. Committing ourselves to Christ has inherent risk. It’s never automatic and it is daily renewable. We must be willing to experience the aloneness that comes with the commitment. If there is no will to overcome, we may not be willing to assume the risk?
We pray. Thank you Lord for calling us out and presenting us with the challenge of a relationship with you every day. Sometimes we feel a sense of risk that keeps us from committing to your will. Forgive us when we just can’t seem to take that first step or risk the amenities of life you may be calling us to abandon. We don’t like crash landings in this life Lord, but sometimes they may be necessary to abide fully in your grace. In Jesus name we pray. Amen!
“Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own” (Matt 6:34)
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