Walking Into Promises

I waked alone in the fields after the fire. Soot and tears stained my face. If I stopped walking I was convinced I would die.  I was alone for the first time in my life, eight years of overalls and mud pies. When I couldn’t walk any further, I punched the closest tree. My bloodied hand beat the ground and I cried until I slept. It was a deep and tormented sleep, with the faces of my family mixed in with the flames that stole my whole world. I woke up seeing embers and smelling smoke. The dirt was replaced by a blanket and I slept again, deeper and more soundly. Quiet and stillness woke me. I was not where I had been. Mud brick walls surrounded me and the smell of pork frying filled my nose. A man across the room smiled and I recoiled. He set the table for one and left me alone. The pain in my stomach grew and I stole that supper he left behind. As I was sopping up my plate, the door opened and the man spoke to me. “Son, I’m Judd. Tomorrow is a new day. Get some rest.”

I woke up to the chill of morning circling my back. The sun was shining through the open door and I stepped outside. Judd said, “Mornin’. You know, the Promised Land is on the other side of this.” I agreed but I didn’t understand his meaning. He sent me to the river to wash up and I watched for the Promised Land he had talked about. Nice clean water, but the land wasn’t promised to me.

Returning from my swim, Judd let me know I could stay but I would have to work. Thankful someone would watch out for me, I began to rattle off the chores I knew. “I can mend a fence. I can clean stalls. I can feed your animals. I can chop wood.” Judd handed me a broom. This was work my sisters did back home. Nothing a man couldn’t handle, I thought. I picked up the broom and swept so hard, I kicked up dust in the air and sent it flying all over the one room pueblo. I made a mess of things. When Judd came back for lunch, he choked on the air, smiled and handed me a rag. I got straight to it.

The next day he asked me to collect kindling. I made close to twenty trips to the woods, returning with handfuls of kindling. At the end of the day, Judd pointed to his wheelbarrow and said, “Son, you worked hard. That wheelbarrow can help you work smart.” When he collected the sticks to start the fire, he could feel they were wet but set them in the cook area anyway. Judd asked me to start the fire. I tried all of the ways I knew to start the fire but all we got was smoke.

And so it went on, day in and day out. Years of hard work. Failure. Strength. Judd was measuring me. He was seeing where my thinking and my work ethic were broken and then he revealed it to me. Judd never shamed me but corrected me. He was helping me build my house. He rooted out all of the fractures in my foundation so it could stand the weight of the glory he knew I was promised. Glory has a way of cracking weak hulls, but it also has a way of causing established roots to grow deep. He knew about my promise because he understood God’s pattern of goodness and he recognized my roots needed some lengthening.

Each time we walk through pain and suffering, there is a Promised Land on the other side. I couldn’t reach the Promised Land until the prosperity of my soul lined up with my inheritance. That character is gained through the righteous choices we make, minute by minute, the small stuff and the big stuff. And, when our souls gain maturity, and wisdom encircles us, our external blessings strengthen us and do not cause us to break. We can walk out of slavery into promises.

The day I put Judd in the ground broke my heart. I grieved him like no one else. He left me his leather bound ranch book, where he routinely wrote his notes. The first page captured his favorite Psalm and he underlined some of the words. The Lord is the portion of my inheritance and my cup; You support my lot. The lines have fallen to me in pleasant places; indeed, my heritage is beautiful to me. I will bless the Lord who has counseled me; indeed, my mind instructs me in the night. I have set the Lord continually before me; because He is at my right hand, I will not be shaken. Therefore my heart is glad and my glory rejoices; my flesh also will dwell securely…You will make known to me the path of life; in Your presence is fullness of joy; in Your right hand there are pleasures forever.

Under the Psalm he had written me a note: Son, your inheritance of greatest value is the Lord. Only in His presence will you have fullness of joy. Keep the Lord in your right hand and you will be the pleasures in His right hand. The only way for each of you to be in the other’s right hand is to stand face to face and hold hands with your Maker. Your spiritual inheritance is my greatest joy. You don’t know it yet, but like David in the Psalm, the lines have also fallen to you in pleasant places. Canaan Canyon is yours. The lines go as far north and as far south and as far east and as far west as you can see. While you believed we were squatters on this land, it was ours all along. Welcome to the Promised Land that was promised you, so long ago.