journey

Winter Walk

The heat of hearth and friction of thwarted dreams
in the dim farmhouse
compel me out into brittle cold.
I forge through snow, toward frosted trees--
shelter and wonder of winter woods.

My boots are swallowed by footprints
left by some wanderer, heedless as I
to tramp these woods on the coldest day.

Restless flames in my soul leap forth
to blaze new paths through unbroken snow,
pushing aside branches,
straight into sunlight.

My driven steps merge with the trail of a deer.
A cry for hope
burns in my lungs and mingles with the frigid air.

I duck under one last branch,
still chasing the light,
and break out into a clearing
of brilliant snow surrounded by trees
crowned with the gift of the cold
and awake with sun.

Rebecca Weber

Almost eight years ago, my family left the farms and open spaces of Ontario and went to a land that we had not known. We settled in Nova Scotia, a land of hills and valleys. Like Abraham who went out of Ur of the Chaldeans with his father Terah and settled in Haran, I went with my family to this new province. I switched over my loyalties and concluded that Ontario would probably never need me back.

So last summer when I felt God leading me to come to Ontario, I wrestled. I was excited about the doors opening, but still. It didn’t quite make sense; wasn’t Ontario full enough already without me? How was it ok to leave my adopted land and go back to where I had come from?

I wonder how Abraham felt when God called him out of Haran to the land that God would show him. His family had already made a big move out of Ur, away from what was familiar. Now he needed to move on again and be a wanderer in the land of Canaan.

I can identify with that part of Abraham’s life. I’ve been something of a wanderer all my life, and here in Ontario I’ve had three different homes in nine months. It turned out there was a work for me to do here after all. But even greater than that, I believe God brought me here so that I would go deeper with Him on the journey of faith.

It seems God isn’t as concerned about efficiency as we are. He moves people from place to place in ways that might look unnecessary or even downright stupid. One of my childhood friends from Ontario is leaving this fall to teach school in BC. It’s part of her journey of discovering God and His purposes for her, even if it might not be the most efficient move in earthly terms. She never wanted to be a teacher till this opportunity came up, but it’s turning out to be just what she needs right now.

The part of my brain that throws words around and organizes details says it would have made more sense if God had sent me to BC instead of her. If I was going to be moved anyway, He could have just taken me a few more provinces west and my friend wouldn’t have to be uprooted at all.

But I am so grateful that God cares more about our hearts than about logistics. In all the confusing circumstances of life, He is making a way forward for each individual in a way that only He could.

On a recent Saturday, I had four opportunities of how to spend the day—all distinctly different, all in different worlds, all events I would have loved to be a part of. My life feels fragmented right now. I find myself saying, “Ok God, so you asked me to take a step of faith in this area, but how is that supposed to fit in with the other pieces of my life, especially that one over there? How does this make sense? How are you going to pull all of this together into a coherent story?”

That Saturday, I ended up sitting under a big maple tree with some of my Reach ministry friends, singing and spending time in the Word and fellowship. And guess what the theme was? The story of Abraham sacrificing Isaac.

There was nothing in God’s command to Abraham that made sense. Sacrifice Isaac? He was the son of promise, the one whose descendants God had said would outnumber the seaside sands. And human sacrifice? God hates human sacrifice. Abraham would have been well aware of that.

But by this time in his life, Abraham had seen the faithfulness of God’s promises over and over. He had made plenty of blunders along the way. But this time, his duty was clear, even though it made no sense. God had spoken. Early the next morning, Abraham set out on what must have been the hardest journey of his life.

He didn’t know the rest of the story like we do. He didn’t know that at the last moment when the upraised knife was glinting in the sun and Isaac lay bound on the altar, God would provide a ram to take the place of his son. Abraham had never seen anyone rise from the dead, but he believed God could do it for Isaac so that the promise could be fulfilled. He didn’t know how God would provide, but he knew God would.

And He did.

God is not overly concerned with making immediate sense. He doesn’t explain Himself when things get confusing. Instead, He offers Himself—His steadfastness, love, and creativity—as the rock on which to anchor our faith.

I wonder if God would chide me as He did the disciples on the stormy sea: “Oh, you of little faith, why do you doubt?”

Maybe in the moment of shock after Abraham heard God’s command to sacrifice Isaac—maybe his mind went back over all the ways God had proven Himself faithful in the past. He had experienced God as the one who will forever stand by His Word.

I have seen God make sense of things that I couldn’t see any clarity in. I have seen Him shuffle the pieces of my life and put them back together in ways that I could never have imagined. He will do it again. He will take the random pieces that don’t seem to make sense, and He will make something beautiful.

Like Abraham, I continue on the journey, knowing that whether He has me in the mountain or the plain, He will provide. He has promised.