I’ve said this over and over this week, especially when talking to God about Saturday. I just want to make sure He remembers. I have rocks.
Not that I’m convinced at this point that my rocks matter a hill of beans. Or a pile of rocks.
But I keep saying it. I have rocks.
About two years ago, we faced the first of many really big decisions. Our small group at church was working through Experiencing God by Henry Blackaby, and the timing was not coincidental. As we were facing these decisions, Michael and I applied the lessons we were learning in our study. We stretched out our open hands, emptied ourselves of what we wanted, carefully checked our motives and asked God to fill us with only His desires, His plan, His will. We only want what You want, we said.
When this first big decision emerged, we faced a two-pronged fork in the road. We had just read about Joshua leading the Israelites across the Jordan River and (eventually) into the Promised Land, and how each of the tribes collected a large stone from the middle of the river to commemorate what God had done. They set up the stones on the shore as a memorial of sorts, and Joshua instructed them, “When your children ask you why these stones are here, tell them what the Lord has done.”
So as Michael and I stood at this two-pronged fork, I collected two rocks, one from each prong. I wanted us to remember how we had asked God which path to take, and how He very clearly led us in one very distinct direction.
I have rocks.
These rocks have rested on an end table in our bedroom for two years. I daydreamed about telling our grandchildren about these rocks. “See what He has done?”
Now I stand at another fork in the road. I face a choice. I could turn away from the rocks, throw the rocks, dismiss the rocks. The rocks at this point seem pretty worthless because the path we took so obediently has suddenly come to a screeching dead-end. Yes, throwing the rocks through a really big window sounds like a good emotional release – but that would be, you know, expensive.
Or I can hold on to the rocks. I have rocks, I cry out. Remember? Remember the rocks? I have rocks! Surely God will honor the rocks. Surely our rocks share the same purpose: “that all the peoples of the earth may know that the hand of the Lord is mighty and that you may reverence and fear the Lord your God forever.” (Joshua 4:24) That’s why I picked up the rocks. That’s why I have held onto the rocks for the last two years.
I’m trying to remind myself that God never made any promises. I’m just wondering what to do with these rocks. For now – simply, factually, logically – I have rocks.