Fresh Faith
by Brad Johnson
Fresh Faith
Fresh Faith is an occasional column by Brad Johnson, a former suburban megachurch pastor who is now employed at Starbucks.
Stoned….in all the good ways!!
Before you get too thrown by that opening line, let me paint you a word image. With the vivid clarity of a child’s imagination, begin to see yourself as frightened, standing on the muddy, slippery banks of a swollen, wide, running river. The water white caps, as it churns. Your legs are cold in short pants and your toes curl to grip the ground with your fare feet.
Your challenge is to cross the dark, swirling water. You can see the other side, but barely. You know how to swim, but barely. Yet, the events of your past, like a predator, crunches branches in the near woods, coming your way.
It seems sure that you will not make it across. Large pieces of debris float by, speaking to the power of the current. But, to remain on the banks of the river, you will perish.
The other side represents a fresh start, the opportunity to be free of the predator-past. It’s everything good and hopeful about the future. The choice seems clear, the ‘other side’ is compelling you forward.
So, with guts and gusto, you step into the water. From somewhere up shore, on your side of the banks, voices from the past echo down the canyon to you: “You will never make it.” “Just stay where you are.” “This is your place in life now.”
But you press forward, water up to your knees now, discontented to let the snarl from the woods, the shiny teeth of the predator-past keep you imprisoned on the cold banks.
Suddenly, the floor of the river bank drops. You test it with a tentative step and the there is no bottom. You feel the river’s current pull at you, tugging you off balance. With one foot you are searching, as with a blind man’s white cane, reaching to find solid ground. If you have to ‘swim for it,’ you know instinctively you will drown. You will grow exhausted and be swept away, before reaching the other bank.
And then, almost like someone beneath the water positioned a rock just underneath your foot, you find a place to stand; a stepping stone. You wonder, is there another?
Again, with trepidation, you search with one foot in the brown murky water. The current runs cold and fast. There, just under your foot, another stepping stone appears and it’s solid and strong, a place to stand. You are making progress.
Who would have thought that such stones were just under the water’s surface. They were invisible from the shore. Only people who had ever dared cross this torrential place would discover the stones that waited there, strong steady, to help those who dared pursue a future.
The canyon voices still echoed their hopeless messages: “You don’t deserve to cross over.” “You must live in your past.”
New voices, however, joined the old ones. These were coming from the opposite shore, and grew louder with each wet step forward I took: “That’s good.” “Keep it up.” “Just a little longer, now.” “You CAN make it.”
Some stepping stones were farther apart than others, causing me to taste some of the old fear from my fallen past. I found myself wondering if the few stones already provided were merely a tease, that I would simply find myself in the middle of deep water and that would be that…the end of the road, so to speak; the end of me.
At those moments, I stretched my legs as far as possible, my toes reaching far, stretching far and each time, I found another stone, just when I needed one most. And it was there all the time. I just had to stretch for it.
I walked forward, through the water and stones appeared one after another, until I reached the other shore. And the whole journey the voices continued, the ones from my past spit pessimistic, judgmental words, while those from my future bade me forward with hope and grace. And the closer to the new shore I got, the fainter the old, harsh voices grew.
Today, I am on the other shore, the one with a future and a hope. Sure, I can look across and see the past places. Occasionally, I can hear the hungry snarl of the past-predator and sometimes hear faint echoes of voices that still would beckon me back to that horrible place.
But mainly, when I look at the river, I think of the stepping stones that carried me safely across. I think of ‘who’ they are and I thank God for each one. And I know my turn will come. God will call me back to the river, not as a traveler the next time, but He will ask me to stand underneath the surface, and in unseen ways, become a stepping stone for those who will also dare to cross.
Brad Johnson, a former assistant pastor at Saddleback Church and head pastor of Calvary Community Church in Westlake Village, currently works at Starbucks and heads up lifechangecommunity.org.
Tags: brad johnson, Fresh Faith, inspiration, pastor brad
Fresh Faith is an occasional column by Brad Johnson, a former suburban megachurch pastor who is now employed at Starbucks.
Stoned….in all the good ways!!
Before you get too thrown by that opening line, let me paint you a word image. With the vivid clarity of a child’s imagination, begin to see yourself as frightened, standing on the muddy, slippery banks of a swollen, wide, running river. The water white caps, as it churns. Your legs are cold in short pants and your toes curl to grip the ground with your fare feet.
Your challenge is to cross the dark, swirling water. You can see the other side, but barely. You know how to swim, but barely. Yet, the events of your past, like a predator, crunches branches in the near woods, coming your way.
It seems sure that you will not make it across. Large pieces of debris float by, speaking to the power of the current. But, to remain on the banks of the river, you will perish.
The other side represents a fresh start, the opportunity to be free of the predator-past. It’s everything good and hopeful about the future. The choice seems clear, the ‘other side’ is compelling you forward.
So, with guts and gusto, you step into the water. From somewhere up shore, on your side of the banks, voices from the past echo down the canyon to you: “You will never make it.” “Just stay where you are.” “This is your place in life now.”
But you press forward, water up to your knees now, discontented to let the snarl from the woods, the shiny teeth of the predator-past keep you imprisoned on the cold banks.
Suddenly, the floor of the river bank drops. You test it with a tentative step and the there is no bottom. You feel the river’s current pull at you, tugging you off balance. With one foot you are searching, as with a blind man’s white cane, reaching to find solid ground. If you have to ‘swim for it,’ you know instinctively you will drown. You will grow exhausted and be swept away, before reaching the other bank.
And then, almost like someone beneath the water positioned a rock just underneath your foot, you find a place to stand; a stepping stone. You wonder, is there another?
Again, with trepidation, you search with one foot in the brown murky water. The current runs cold and fast. There, just under your foot, another stepping stone appears and it’s solid and strong, a place to stand. You are making progress.
Who would have thought that such stones were just under the water’s surface. They were invisible from the shore. Only people who had ever dared cross this torrential place would discover the stones that waited there, strong steady, to help those who dared pursue a future.
The canyon voices still echoed their hopeless messages: “You don’t deserve to cross over.” “You must live in your past.”
New voices, however, joined the old ones. These were coming from the opposite shore, and grew louder with each wet step forward I took: “That’s good.” “Keep it up.” “Just a little longer, now.” “You CAN make it.”
Some stepping stones were farther apart than others, causing me to taste some of the old fear from my fallen past. I found myself wondering if the few stones already provided were merely a tease, that I would simply find myself in the middle of deep water and that would be that…the end of the road, so to speak; the end of me.
At those moments, I stretched my legs as far as possible, my toes reaching far, stretching far and each time, I found another stone, just when I needed one most. And it was there all the time. I just had to stretch for it.
I walked forward, through the water and stones appeared one after another, until I reached the other shore. And the whole journey the voices continued, the ones from my past spit pessimistic, judgmental words, while those from my future bade me forward with hope and grace. And the closer to the new shore I got, the fainter the old, harsh voices grew.
Today, I am on the other shore, the one with a future and a hope. Sure, I can look across and see the past places. Occasionally, I can hear the hungry snarl of the past-predator and sometimes hear faint echoes of voices that still would beckon me back to that horrible place.
But mainly, when I look at the river, I think of the stepping stones that carried me safely across. I think of ‘who’ they are and I thank God for each one. And I know my turn will come. God will call me back to the river, not as a traveler the next time, but He will ask me to stand underneath the surface, and in unseen ways, become a stepping stone for those who will also dare to cross.
Brad Johnson, a former assistant pastor at Saddleback Church and head pastor of Calvary Community Church in Westlake Village, currently works at Starbucks and heads up lifechangecommunity.org.
Tags: brad johnson, Fresh Faith, inspiration, pastor brad
