Standing at the Edge

There have been times in my life when I have seen just how easy it would be to step off the edge.  At those moments in my life, I am shocked to see how close I am to not just stumbling, but falling.

Thoughts rise up inside of me that are, unfortunately, not foreign.  I recognize them as visitors that I’ve invited in and entertained.  Visitors that bring gifts of discouragement, slavery, and destruction.
There is a moment when I hear my Father’s voice calling me, but it seems distant. Those visiting thoughts have since morphed into ideas and they call loudly.  I hear them and they seem so right, so good at the moment.
It is my choice to make.  Do I listen to my Father?  The One who willingly invites me to return to His side where love and forgiveness abound.  Or, do I run away?
Too often, I hesitate.  The choice should be easy, but still I can’t decide.  What is wrong with me?  I’ve seen what bad choices can do.  Peace, in my life, is shattered.  Trust broken.  Suspicion and worry consume me.  The consequences should be enough to hold me in check.  But, still I stand there on the edge thinking, waiting.
No one knows.  No one sees what lies deep within my heart.  No one realizes how close I am to plunging off the ledge. No one except my Father who reaches out His arm to me and calls my name. 
I look around me once more.  Everything seems blurry. It’s become difficult to tell right from wrong.  The terrain has changed.  No longer is the ground below me flat and secure.  Now the path is steep and the slightest movement causes me to slip.  I’ve run out of time.   My indecision has left me on unsteady ground.  I can no longer just stand at the edge. I feel myself sliding.  Either I grasp my Father’s hand and let Him pull me to safety or I plunge down the edge and suffer the wounds that are sure to follow.
I call out to my Father and I feel His arm lift me out of danger’s way.  The ground He places me on is solid.  The knowledge of what could have been frightens me.  The memory of those sinful thoughts and desires that rose up so quickly and lingered too long fill me with shame. 
Then, I see my Father.  He didn’t rescue me and leave me alone.  He is with me.  His love and grace fill me.  Forgiveness and freedom from shame flows over me.  How could I ever have left His side?
When I feel strong, full of knowledge, and independent, I am more likely to take off on my own.  At first, I stroll within sight of my Father confident in my abilities to overcome any roadblocks I may encounter.   I continually try to stretch the boundaries glancing back to see if my Father is still in view.  Soon, thoughts and desires, that never show themselves in the presence of my Father, dance across my path.  One beckons me to follow.  I look down to see I am once again standing at the edge.

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