Written on January 20, 2016. By Shari Norvell
Monday, I played a monumental game of hide and seek. I didn’t even know I was part of the game until I found what was hidden for me. The discovery was of something that has always been true, ever laid before me, but easily tucked away for another discovery day.
My children believe I can do anything. This astounding reality raised its bold head in the middle of my bathroom filled with hairspray, brushes, combs and bobby pins. And two beauties. And one cheerleader. And two little boys running in and out.
I can easily recognize that our kids have seen me take some big risks and say yes to some unexpected things. They have gone to bed many nights and awakened to find me stumbling in from delivering a baby. To them, events such as these have become normal. Yet, sometimes my view goes sideways and I see the number of years it took me to obtain my girls license and the many things I couldn’t do for my little women because of it. And I forget that my inept becomes His incredulous through the risks and unexpecteds my kids have seen.
So, I stood incredulous. Incredulous with brush in hand and lips lined with hair pins. Incredulous that the two heads before me were chatting and laughing as if nothing of importance hung in the balance. To them, I was doing their hair for dress rehearsal. To me, their entire competitive careers hung in the balance.
I could picture the scores coming in. “That was the most technically perfect dance we have ever seen, but we had to deduct 75 points because of the two tendrils that escaped the french twist and flopped about carelessly throughout the performance.” Or, “We were going to give this one the trophy without even seeing the other dancers, until the bobby pins flew out of the twist like bullets, shooting a teammate and judge in the eye. She is now disqualified.”
I know, I know. In the grandness of all we get to do, this was not the biggest thing in the world. But in that moment, it was our world. Little moments bump together and become big memories. And I guess I desperately wanted this days memory to be of perfectly coiffed hair that would need a bulldozer to take down at the end.
The first of the beauties was as ready as she was gonna be, 🙂 As I moved to the next head, I asked, “Aren’t you worried about this? I mean, I am just coming out of my rookie year as a dance mom.” And one of them, the sparkly, sprinkly one said, “Surely you can do this mom. Look at all the other things you have done.”
One of my favorite things in all the world is words. I have a journal ever dedicated to words Pappa invites me to write down like seeds planted and then care for until they bloom with all the richness and splendor He placed within. In my hall of fame of vocabulary, “surely” is right at the top. It sits between fantastical and splendiferous. Its okay if all my hall of fame words aren’t widely accepted as real. Its my journal!
Surely. A word poured out from the heart of little boy named David and recorded in one of the two Psalms he penned as a younger not yet ready for thrones and crowns. At the time David wrote Psalm 23, He sat upon a rock molded by wind a rain. Much later he would sit upon one hewn by the hands of men. Both Psalm 19 and 23 are ones that sing of childlike faith, invitations to us to never lose it.
Though surely does not appear till the end of Psalm 23, it is sown throughout. It’s appearance is like an exclamation point, accentuating the truth. Upon a hillside, a little man tells a legendary tale. He begins by declaring God is his everything and because He is, there is no lack. If he needs a drink, he is led to it. Need of a bite is an invitation to walk with God. David goes on to speak of enemies. From where David was at that time, enemies were anything that tried to steal one of the flock he tended. He tells of a shadow, filled with death. Lions and bears. Not yet man.
The melody the wind catches is one of being prepared for what is to come. Part of the preparation is sometimes being asked to do things, you don’t think you can do, things you don’t want to do. Things you don’t think you can. To walk through the valley. But you do. Because His rod, His very heart is there. Like David, you find it beautiful and your preference becomes pursuing it until your heart is as beautiful.
Youthful, yet not childish, David goes on to sing of the prosperity he finds in that pursuit. A set table, an overflowing cup and vanquished enemies. Contentment.
And then – surely. ‘Ak’. When uttered by man it means “yes”. It means, “I don’t know how and I won’t unless I go with God.” David said it over and over as minstrel upon a hill. When Pappa says ‘ak’ it means “completed, truth, certain, altogether, always and only.” It means everything needed has been brought together for His pursuit of you. When added to another word, it becomes ‘mal’ak’. The dispatch of messengers, of angels. It means being hemmed in by all the things He has already done – encapsulated to go forth in the now doing.
Surely goodness and mercy will follow me, all the days of my life and I will dwell in the House of the Lord forever. Follow as defined in this verse is “hound”. David’s carol rings with the testimony of the collision of his yes with God’s. I will never be alone. You will always be with me. I won’t be able to forget your goodness, for I will be surrounded with it on every side. Every choice tallied now. The sum – His Presence. His Passion. His Pursuit. His Perfection.
Surely means to grow up, to mature and to receive the marvelous magnitude of inheritance. Surely surrenders us to wait for more than His reply to our request. To step away from waiting for what we think He should provide, instead of being present to participate in His power. Surely makes us “altogether”. One. Singular but not separate. With. Never without.
What is something Pappa has invited you to do that you have added up your inadequacies on, instead of His victories? A place where you let your inept keep you from His incredulous?
Recount a surely – where your yes collided with His and the outcome was colossal! Write your own Psalm telling the story.