On the ice as in life?

There's nothing quite like being out "there".
"There" being someplace where it seems like time stops,
worries disappear,
God is big
infinite
Creator
bringer of peace to my soul
full of love for little me
and I am humbled and so wonderfully not the focus.
The silence swallows me up
and I am overcome by awe
at the expanse of the sky
the brightness of the moon
and the incredible reminders
that I am in His presence...
not just "there"
but sometimes I need "there" to remind me.

I found myself at Bird Lake for awhile last week
and discovered the rest my heart and soul needed.
Peace.
Peace that seems so much easier to grab hold of when I'm surrounded by quiet and creation, and this time, surrounded by what seemed to be infinite amounts of fresh, deep snow.

The evening we were there, a few of us decided to walk across the lake.
Despite the concern of others
and the few spots of slushy snow along the way
we trudged through the knee-high (for me, anyway) snow
guided by the incredible light of the moon
tried, but failed, to call wolves and moose
and arrived on the other side.

Along the way we held a short discussion about wanting to see how much pressure it would take to actually break the ice and fall through.
Interestingly, we had 3 different ideas.
One of us wanted to find a slushy spot and jump as hard as possible to see if it would really break the ice.
One of us thought it would be fun and would gladly observe and encourage someone else to try the aforementioned approach, but would be too scared to actually try it on our own.
The third of us thought they would be gung ho to watch or partake, but would first go and get the necessary rope and safety equipment necessary to ensure that if the ice cracked there would be a rescue system in place.

As we sat with our feet on the coffee table and sang,

me, with boldness in my heart -
"Prone to wander, Lord, I feel it; prone to leave the God I love..."
I couldn't help but ask,


"What does my faith look like?"
I reflected a few times over how each of our approaches to the ice reflect different approaches that we as individuals, but also each of us within
different situations, take as we encounter God and put (or don't put) our trust in Him.

Sometimes "wandering" is not remembering how much God loves me, but going out and trying to jump through the ice when deep inside I know it's not the brightest idea.
Sometimes "wandering" is trusting God to take care as long as it's not me in the situation. My faith falls short when I'm the one being asked to jump on the ice as opposed to my adventurous friend.
Sometimes "wandering" is not trusting enough, but making sure all the right safety measures are in place before taking that leap "of faith" (or is it?).

On the other side, sometimes faith is jumping - not knowing if the ice is strong enough or not, but trusting that God will hold us.
Or faith is trusting that God is immeasurably able to do more than we ask or imagine, but not feeling called to follow Him in a certain area. And in turn, entrusting loved ones to His care as they answer calls that seem crazy, but nudges from the Holy Spirit nonetheless.
Or faith might be using what we have and what we know to serve and live lives that are indeed holy and pleasing, and that acknowledge the God given talents and wisdom we have.

That's a lot of hmm.
And a lot of asking God where I've wandered.
And then a lot of asking Him to help me trust -
when I feel secure
when I feel called
and even, or maybe especially, when I don't
or I'm not sure if I do.
When the ice seems thin and slushy
my question really ought to be,
"Am I trusting that God is bigger than me
and do I really believe
that He is holding me in His hands?"

They're good hands to be in.