Adopted for Life: Contemplating the Lord

It was early on Saturday morning that I decided to go for a walk to do what I endearingly call a time of "contemplating the Lord". The Box "R" Ranch in Oregon is one of my favorite places to do that, and it's not difficult when His handiwork is on full display in all it's glory for every sense to enjoy. Austin had ventured out just before I did to do exactly the same. We both have our favorite spot on the Ranch to intimately commune with God, and it happens to be the same place. That spot is known as "Inspiration Point". If you could see it, you'd understand how it's name was captured. The vista is right over a God-carved gorge slightly above the crosses located on the other side, all three carefully placed there by the owners, our dear friends the Rowlett's and the Randall's.

On my way to Inspira- tion Point, I thought I might run into Austin so I softly and distantly inched my way down the pathway until I could see his head peeking above the close horizon. Upon sight of him I stopped, and instead of contemplating the Lord I contemplated him. There he was, my 24 year old son, now fully grown and blissfully married, standing on the cliff's edge meditating upon my God, our God, fulfilling a vision Victoria and I had for him (and all our children) before he was ever born. I'm not sure I could have beheld a more beautiful sight even if I tried to orchestrate it myself.

Not wanting to disturb him, I took a short ninety degree turn to the south and decided to find another vantage point of the crosses from a different ledge at the top of the ravine. I eventually found one, completely out of sight from Austin and o' so stunningly perfect. Having just read earlier in the morning from the Gospel of John, Chapter 14, I decided to go back there and ruminate upon it some more. As I thumbed through the pages of my small Bible, I caught eye of a bird off in the distance that was flying over the stream below. I don't know why, but I then looked toward the east and I locked onto a treetop that was the tallest among the many. As I looked back and forth between the bird and the tree, I noticed it started to fly toward that very same tree as if it were determined to find the highest spot possible from which to survey the landscape. In a sense, the foul had the same desire as me, to contemplate the beauty of the Lord and quietly scream forth the glory of God.

Jesus said, as quoted by John, "Most assured- ly, I say to you, he who believes in Me, the works that I do he will do also; and greater works than these he will do, because I go to My Father. And whatever you ask in My name, that I will do, that the Father may be glorified in the Son. If you ask anything in My name, I will do it." Staring out over the rocky and tree studded terrain, I couldn't shake these words from Jesus out of my mind. The Spirit just kept drawing me back to them. "Greater works"? "Anything"? How could that be? Jesus, fully God, telling me that I would do even greater things, if I ask in His name and in order that the Father might be glorified in the Son? "What have I done?", I asked myself. "What could I do?", I also asked myself. I must believe by faith that what I've done from the motive of honoring God is great, even though I may not see it as such, and I must also believe that what I might do to bring honor to God could be great, even though I may not know what that is right now. So I prayed audibly to God knowing that no one could hear my voice in the midst of my isolation, no one but God, and said, "Lord, I'm too weak to think of You over myself, and I'm too weak to break myself free from serving myself, so whatever it is that You would have me do, please force me to a place where I'm helpless and dependent. I want to do that 'anything', but I don't know what that 'anything' is. Maybe I'm already doing it and don't know it. If I'm not, then please don't let me waste another day trying to find out, but rather be content knowing that I'm doing what You've asked, and patiently waiting for the next great thing for the sake of the Kingdom."

I'm not writing my thoughts as clearly as I remember them at that moment, but I do know that the Spirit was rising up within me, and I do know that I was at an epoch of connectedness to my Father. Perhaps this Thanksgiving celebration was one of the best for me; sweet times of communion with God, wonderful times of conversation around the Scriptures with my family under the warmth of a roaring fire, and basking in the virginity of land that I truly feel is hallowed. Both Victoria and I were melancholy to leave on Sunday morning, wishing we could just stay indefinitely, knowing it was a small taste of heaven. Even Austin said as we were leaving to come home, "It kind of makes me sad to say 'good-bye' to this place." We all know how he feels.