Cookie Cutters (as promised...) and Treading Water

I once told someone "Cookie cutter cookies are good. Cookie cutter friends are bad."

It sparked a conversation. And a promise. A promise to expound on the meaning of my words via blog. On the eve of this dear friend leaving the country to pursue God's calling on his heart, it seemed an appropriate time to do just that. I've thought a lot about friends lately. How you gain new ones from each life stage. I keep in touch with friends from high school, college, post-college, and world travels; now I'm developing relationships with people here in Georgia. But that doesn't mean I love those from cities past any less. To be honest, no two of my friends are alike. And I like it that way. They all bring something unique to the table, I connect with each of them on different areas. It's kind of like the Olympic rings. Yes, I just compared my friend network to the Olympic rings. They're all different colors, they all connect somehow, but they all stand alone in their own way. That's why a cookie cutter wouldn't work for friends. Aside from being too much of the same thing, there would be no challenge, no interest. It'd be just plain boring. Let's face it, none of us would be who we are if it weren't for our friends.

And so tonight, one of those uniquely shaped non-cookie-cutter friends is stepping on a plane to a distant land (although distant is now relative thanks to Skype). He is following God's call. Giving (up) everything to help bring the Kingdom to earth. Moving to Thailand for a year is no small thing. Neither is the work he will be doing there. Lyrics from Bebo Norman's "The Hammer Holds" comes to mind.

But my dreams are not the issue here, for they, the hammer holds
The task before me seems unclear, but it, my Maker holds


This move, this act of obedience, it's what life is all about. It's radical made normal. It's accomplishing something that a cookie cutter friend never could.

Ok, I've been wracking my brain for some great segue into the "treading water" part of this blog, but to no avail. So I'll just jump in. (Ha, no pun intended.)

I was worshipping at church a few weeks ago and assumed my usual worshipping position: both hands halfway raised or one halfway and one all the way. With eyes closed, I had an image. I saw a child reaching for his parent, obviously with both arms stretched high. I thought, why don't I do that? Why don't I sing to my Father with both hands stretched upwards, a gesture of surrender, of asking to be held? There's something humbling about doing this as an adult. Sure children do it all the time. They fall and cut their knee, they want something to eat, they long to see up on your level...they raise their arms up in the hopes of being picked up. Doesn't our Daddy want us to do the same thing? Raise our hands to Him in a gesture of surrender, longing to see up on His level? I hadn't thought of this again until Friday night when I was worshipping at a conference. One of the speakers used this illustration of both arms of a child reaching up to his parent. God's subtle reminder of something He revealed to me, His words echoed in the voice of another.

At this same night of worship, I was hearing God speak to me about faith. I'll admit not much scares me, but I am seriously afraid of swimming in the ocean. Like past the point where my feet will touch. I don't mind swimming pools. But you put me in the ocean without a life jacket and it's panic. Heart pounding fast, shortness of breath, the whole shebang. But I'll go as far as my feet will take me (with my height that isn't very far!). God was pressing in about trusting Him to take that bold step of faith into the water. I told him I was afraid of the ocean.

He immediately responded with It's ok. I'm not asking you to tread water. I'm asking you to walk on it.