Double Mindedness

Caught on the precipice of the waves of double mindedness. My ship, suspended between the two, going neither north nor south. Wishing for freedom in the measure of the east to the west. Entertaining one way and fancying another. Doldrums atop mountainous waves. Captivated without progress. An unregistered compass spinning while sitting still. Such is the plight of the man who sees with his heart and wants with his mind. To have glimpsed the kingdom of heaven and still lust after the thorns. A man with two masters and servant to none.

The hull began to groan and when it could no longer sustain the weight, it cracked and crumbled between the two waves. The stern was to my right and the bow was to my left. Each taking on the sea as I tread water between them. The waves flattened and melted into the remarkably still water below. One body of water as far as I could see. The surface was so calm I could see my own reflection, which rippled with each of my attempts to stay afloat. Survival became my primary focus and for the first time my senses unified as I dedicated mind, body and soul to my saving. A single purpose before me.

There was nothing that I could do but continue to tread water. I yelled at God. “Why have you done this to me?” Never thinking I would get a response, I heard a voice through the wind. “My glory is heavy.” I spun around in the water and as I had thought no one was there. Again the voice spoke to me. “What have your cares, riches and pleasures afforded you?” I looked down and saw that it gained me an ocean, an ocean that was preparing to swallow me. My thoughts and cares swam past me on the surface of the water. My pursuits and conquests all played out before me like a movie. None of it was appealing to me, as I sat in the deep dark waters. My temporal desires were nothing but distractions that choked and robbed me of what matters. I shouted back at the voice, “Nothing, they gained me nothing but a hungry sea!”

I felt a heavy pressure upon me and I began to hear a fizzing sound. The water began bubbling all around me, buzzing, jumping and dancing as it does. That’s when both of my feet hit something. Suddenly, there was wet sand between my toes. As the water continued to recede, a bridge of salt appeared. While I could not see where the bridge would take me, a man floating in the middle of the ocean doesn’t think twice when given a different option. I stepped onto the bridge and though I didn’t know it, my journey began.

As I started walking, the portion of the bridge that I had just crossed over broke off and fell into the sea. This level of commitment terrified me. I can’t go back. If I were to go back, I would be jumping into the surety of my death. I turned around and with each step my past crumbled behind me. I walked and walked and walked. No longer straddled between two waves, no longer divided in mind and spirit. I walked the path before me. One foot in front of the other. I never thirsted and never hungered and I walked for what seemed to be years. In the walking and in the listening, I had encounters.

Sea creatures rose up before me, like in the pirate tales I had read as a boy. With a word, a sword would appear and I would battle the monsters until they sunk back into the deep. Some days I would have to jog on the bridge as the anointing upon my feet was so great it would dissolve the salt below me. Other days, feathers would appear on my arms and I would run with all my might and take off and ride the currents. Each night, however, my salted roost called my name and I returned with delight. It was a journey where each day I experienced new adventures but the greatest was listening to the voice that carved me from the clay. Hearing His secrets and His whispers made me come alive.

Now an older man stood where I used to be, lines on my face and grey through my hair. My strength remained great and my vision and focus were sharp. I reached the end of the bridge and it deposited me into soft warm sand. Before me were palm trees which shaded the ground beneath them. I walked ahead. As my eyes adjusted to the darkening atmosphere, it became certain that I was being observed. My every movement made the jungle pulse. I continued down the middle of the well-defined path, which was oddly worn down on each of its sides. I heard a war cry and then down the path came running a man with long spindly legs and a tiny body above. He came to a screeching stop right before me. His legs towered over me. They had to be at least twenty feet high. I prepared for battle. He just stood there staring at me and while the distance from my face to his was great, it was evident that he was angry about my presence. Neither of us backed down. I heard a great rustling coming from all around me in the jungle and more towering men appeared from behind the trees. I was outnumbered and surrounded. No possibility for retreat. All were positioned to devour me. The leader, who was looking down at me, motioned for me to follow him. I wasn’t in a situation to debate, so I did as he asked.

The leader’s giraffe-like legs straddled the path, one foot on either side of it. I stood in the middle and continued to follow. As I walked, the other men fell in line behind me and they whispered in a language I had never before heard. As I peered over my shoulder, the other men walked with feet bridging the path, just as the leader was doing before me. We soon arrived at their camp. I became uneasy as it was laid out just like a scene out of a boyhood story where cannibals successfully ate the intruders. I desperately wanted to be back on the bridge, which now looked more like a dock, as the result of its constant crumbling. My heart spoke to God: “Lord, You saved me from my captivity, stranded between two waves. You sustained me for years walking over the sea on a bridge of salt. I know Your nature and I have faith that You led me here for a purpose. Thank you for this situation as I know it will be used to glorify You. May Your will be done on earth as it is in heaven.”

As we entered their site, there were hundreds of deep thin holes in the ground. The men approached the holes and each stepped into them, one leg at a time. They sunk down into the ground and only a portion of their legs were visible. They twisted a bit and then separated from their legs and walked on shorter legs, which moved quickly as they surrounded me. I was now with men of my own size. I watched in amazement and then began to realize those were not their legs they were stilts! They slid their stilts into the holes in the ground like knives into a knife block. What is this before me Lord? Recognizing I did not speak their language, they brought me to their wall of history. From what I could gather, they had been stilt people for a very long time. As I continued seeing their pictures, from present to past, I noticed they weren’t always stilt people. There was a time, in a garden, where they walked as they had been created. Something happened in that garden which forced them to leave. From that point forward, they started using stilts as extensions of themselves. There must have been a need for them to be taller, but taller than what? Their transformation started with much shorter stilts than the length they graduated to today. They were shaky with them at first but through the generations they became extremely proficient.

God reminded me of my boat upon two waves as I reviewed the history of men upon two stilts, each divided. I was suspended, making no progress, as I straddled two stationary waves. These men believed they needed to be bigger than what they chose to leave behind in the garden, so they stood on sticks and beat their chests. The sticks became greater and longer and each generation clung to them more wildly than the first, a conspiracy attempting to overcome justice. A culture who refused the lesson of grace and instead chose to fight the Creator by attempting to make themselves bigger and fiercer. A culture that developed through sin and belief in the lies they told themselves. Now, they are a curious bunch who lack function and purpose as their adaptations have overcome their nature. The very cornerstone of their society entrenched in rituals robbing and crippling them from their  appointed effectiveness. A different history, but suspended all the same.      

I was a problem, as I did not embrace their idolatry, refused to stand on their sticks and walked the center of the path, undivided with purpose. After demonstrating my understanding and recognition of their history, I motioned to them, just as the leader had done to me. We waked back through the jungle toward the sea. I walked the top of the mounded path and they walked behind me, one foot on either side of the path. I collected branches along the way and signaled to them to do the same. Given their towering height, they were unable to gather and they shrugged and continued forward. When we reached the water I began using the sticks I had collected to create a raft. My new giant friends were very interested and wanted to join in. Again, they couldn’t help or participate because of their stilts, which kept them stranded and unable to venture far. A young man in the back defiantly stomped his pointed foot into the sand and it bored deep enough to catch. He slid down his stilt like a fireman sliding down the pole. I had always wanted to see someone do that…Thank you Lord. He walked over to me carrying his stilts. He broke one and the entire group shrieked and began chastising the young man. He broke it again and then started on the second stilt. He used his stilts to make a raft just like mine. We pushed out into the water and started our next journey, following God, single minded on a sea of forgetfulness. The young man felt the warrior in him rising and he left behind his past and used it as his launching point for his appointed quest.