Psalm 40:2 “He lifted me out of the slimy pit, out of the mud and mire; he set my feet on a rock and gave me a firm place to stand.” I was in that slimy pit, sinking fast in the sucking mire which pulled at me like quick sand. The more I struggled the more I sank, until, finally submerged, my mouth and nostrils filled with mud as I frantically gasped for unavailable air. Then, I felt Someone stronger than myself, Someone higher than myself, Someone so large that my pit was as nothing to Him reach down into the filth and start drawing me towards Himself. Gently but firmly He pulled me upwards, sometimes pausing, knowing that moving quickly would be too frightening for me, so horrifying I might wrench myself free to fatally fall into the engulfing morass…after all the pit was all I knew…as painful as it was, it was my “comfort” zone; the unknown atmosphere above seemed even more terrifying than the darkness below. The slime clung, fighting to stay adhered. Sometimes I was carefully and lovingly shaken to loose the sticky, stubborn sludge, other times gently dabbed with the softest of touches. Once clean, the exposed patches of my pale skin would shiver in the light breeze, shrinking from the bright sun. Oh, this Strong Healer knew me well. Sensitive to my needs and holding me close, He gradually, ever so gradually continued to bring me out into life until my feet were set on a rock, giving me a firm place to stand. I sometimes may curl into a defensive ball feeling like the pit is yawning before me…but my feet are on the Rock. There still may be dirt that needs to be removed….but my feet are on the Rock. Furious crashing ocean waves may beat against me causing me to stagger….but my feet are on the Rock. Icy whispered words may rise from the depths sending chills down my spine…but my feet are on the Rock. My Rock, my Jesus, my Savior and my Lord.
Today while pondering the berm I started building in my mind’s eye two nights ago trying to hold back the rising tide of anxiety creeping toward me, my thoughts stop, intrigued by the emerging picture. My hands are pushing at dirt attempting to corral it into a solid wall. Rebelling against my intent, particles slide off the sides so only a low pitifull hill remains. The soil is dry; it will not adhere to itself. A light dawns. The soil is dry. It will not adhere to itself. There is no moisture…which means there is no mud. There is no slime, no muck, no mire. Even though at times I may feel as though I am sliding back into the pit, I am not. My feet are on the Rock. I stand amazed.