Between the Sixth and Seventh Dip

So here I am, standing on the banks and staring down into “My Jordan.”

There has to be another way.

Aren’t there plenty of other rivers nearby? Cleaner rivers that sparkle as the sun kisses the chilled waters to warmth and are far more inviting.  Why this river??

It’s dirty…no, filthy! It’s filled with dead fish and it stinks! And yet, this is where my healing lies?

You want me to wash in this river? This nasty, muddy, filthy, smelly, disgusting water?!

“Yes,” He says, His voice calm and clear.

“Why, God, why?” I complain. “This is humiliating! I’m out in the open and everybody can see me. I’ll look like a fool! Why can’t I dip in a private place where my shame can be contained?”

“Your healing lies only within the Jordan,” He says.

This is beneath me, or so I believe.

My desire to be healed is greater than my pride. So I concede. This muddy mess makes it impossible for me to see what I’m stepping into. Whether a serpent waits beneath the surface to sink its fangs into my heel, I do not know. How deep these waters are, I cannot tell. All I know is that this pain I cannot keep.

The place of healing is never a pretty sight. It’s a place where you must come undone; a place where you take your mask off and stand vulnerable before onlookers who have much to say but little to offer.  It’s a place where the truth must be trusted to stand on its own without the assistance of an explanation.

It’s a place where riches or prestige don’t matter.

So, with my bruised ego, my morsel of faith, and my truck load of fear, I step in – sticking up my nose as I go deeper into those muddy waters.

Slowly, I begin to dip.

The first time is the hardest. The sound of splashing water draws the attention of those along the road. I am so self-conscious and feel even filthier than I did before.

How can healing come from such an awful, demeaning place?

I continue…surrounded, yet alone.

I come up the sixth time and nothing has changed…

What am I doing? Why am I wasting my time with this? But then I remember that my God is a God of suddenlys.

Suddenly, the raging sea calmed…

Suddenly, the blind man’s eyesight was restored…

Suddenly, a bright light shone from heaven…

Suddenly, the angel appeared…

Suddenly, Joseph was placed in charge of Pharaoh’s palace…

Suddenly, the walls of Jericho came down…

Suddenly, the Red Sea parted…

Suddenly…

Finally, my suddenly happens somewhere between the sixth and seventh dip. I’m healed! I jump for joy without a care of whoever might see.

The place of healing is a deep place where only you and God can go. It’s a place tailored to facilitate your healing. Don’t envy the woman whose healing occurred in a more discrete manner. That wouldn’t have worked for you. You needed a Jordan.

The moments between the sixth the seventh dip is filled with the the most doubt.

The point between the edge of your pain and the beginning of your healing is the most challenging and humbling. But in that vacuum is the place where miracles takes place.

You have to endure a process that often seems to be a waste of time. You’ll wonder if you’re sane, or if your loved ones are simply trying to preserve your feelings by not admitting out loud that they think you’ve lost your mind.

While the path to healing is often unpleasant, the destination is beautiful. You see, healing isn’t prideful. It is polite and never disruptive. It doesn’t scream at the top of its lungs for attention nor does it  announce itself flamboyantly. Instead, it reveals itself when you least expect it.

So, where is your Jordan? It’s the place you’d prefer to avoid at all cost. It’s the ugly, dark, lonely and painful place where God needs to lead you to in order to heal your pain.