“On Alaskan Rooftops and Daily Salvation”
This is a busy season. I work during the week, and we have commitments three nights every week. It’s also football season, and in the South, we do football. It’s big and loud and rowdy, a mini-holiday every weekend. Sunday is consumed with church. Add in the actual holidays, travel to see out-of-town relatives, meals upon meals of turkey and dressing, plus cold and flu season (and somebody is always sick) and it is busy. Real busy.
I enjoy my morning devotion time on the back deck. Middle Places: The Community challenged us to do written scriptures for the month and I love it. I am writing out each morning’s Scripture on those pages as a way to slow down (even if just for a moment) and maybe even memorize them. It reminds me of writing spelling words as a child: I hated that my mom made me do it, but it worked. I learned them.
Yesterday’s Scripture described salvation as a fountain. I often think of salvation as a moment, frozen in time, when in reality, it could be several moments each day. Salvation is an on-going experience.
I started thinking about our time in Alaska. People would collect fresh water from the runoff for their daily home use. Picture massive sheets of melting ice streaming down the side of snow-capped mountains, like a waterfall. The locals trusted the water was good, clean, and drinkable. They collected it, enjoyed it, then came back the next day. Yesterday’s water had run out, but the source of the water remained. Our salvation is just like that. We don’t just thirst once. We don’t only long for Christ once. It is constant. We ask, receive, then return to the source to collect more strength, more substance, more life as often as we need.
I tasted the daily salvation of God when my baby had a high fever the night before we left for Alaska. Medicine wasn’t working and I couldn’t figure how we were going to take such a sick baby on a plane. We were moving 4,000 miles away from everything safe, comfortable, and familiar. My husband and I came together and prayed hard for her and watched as the fever broke. It was a miracle. There is no other way to explain it.
Or the time I found out I was pregnant with that same second baby. After spending a week on the psych ward with postpartum depression following my first pregnancy, the news of a second child paralyzed me with fear. I knew everyone else expected me to be joyful, but I feared this would be a cruel repeat of my first experience. In the midst of my worrying, God promised me that nothing could separate me from his love. I chose to listen to God’s voice instead of the shame and humiliation attached to the previous pregnancy. The moment she was born, I was flooded with such joy and peace. It was so different from my first experience. The words God told me had come true.
Isaiah 12:2-3, “See, God has come to save me. I will trust Him and not be afraid. The Lord God is my strength and song; He has given me victory. With joy you will drink deeply from the fountain of salvation!”
God has already worked miracles in my life. And He will do it again. Salvation comes in the juggling of frustrations and the “oh crap, I can’t do it all. God, I need your help here.” In those moments, I stop and take another drink. When I worry about what’s ahead of me, wondering how we will buy a fridge, washer, and dryer all at the same time as we start over all over again now that are back to Alabama, I hear God whisper, “I’ve got this. You’re going to be okay.” And I stop and fill my jug again.
Bio: Lindsey Austin blogs regularly with her husband at www.iamsteveaustin.comLindsey completed three years of ministry school and then shifted gears for a degree in speech language pathology, but most of her time is spent keeping a toddler and a preschooler alive. When Lindsey is able to break free from wiping bottoms and noses, she enjoys all things crafty and blogs about a Jesus who speaks to her in tangible, practical, and often mystical ways.