The sheer rock face rose high above the blue and purple layers of the mountain range. Morning mist blanketed the valleys below and followed the river that flowed like a ribbon rippling in the wind. On the highest shelf among the boulders and rocky crag, an eagle’s nest spread it’s wooden tarp of twigs, thorns, moss, and feathers. A fledgling stretched his wings, hopping from twig to twig, flapping earnestly in preparation to soar while the parents perched nearby.
Fear seemed to grip the young eagle and he plopped back into the security of the nest.
But momma knew the time to fly was now.
She nudged her baby to the edge of the nest, and with a gentle prod, pushed him into the vast domain with nothing but air to support his wings. The young bird dropped from the cliff, squawking with terrifying protest. The father eagle swooped down under him with majestic wings spread wide. The fledgling rested on the strong back of its father who soared to the top of the cliff and repeated the process.
As the young bird took flight, the parents flew in small circles with their little one imitating them. As he became exhausted, the father would once again swoop beneath him to give him a resting place. The circles of flight became larger and larger, always rising towards the sun in an ascending spiral …
Always rising towards the sun in an ascending spiral.
I want to believe my life reflects this same image as I learn to trust the Lord, step out of the nest with nothing but air to support my wings. I want to believe that, in my attempts to ascend, He swoops beneath me and allows me to rest upon His expanded wings when I become too weary or exhausted to continue on my own.
I want to believe.
And most days I do.
But there are always those days in which I falter when I find myself falling through the air, squawking with terrifying protest — those days when life is coming at me fast and hard, and I have no sense of control.
Ahhh. That’s it, isn’t it? The lack of control.
This begs the question: Do I believe God … or not? Do I trust God … or not? There can be no in-between — either He is Lord of my life, or He’s not.
Oh Father, I believe! Help thou my unbelief. When I feel the air beneath my faltering wings, remind me it is Your breath sustaining me, and carrying me to my destination. When I am weary, let me feel Your outstretched arms catching me, holding me, and providing for me a resting place. When I don’t want to jump from my comfort zone into the unknown, strengthen my resolve, fill me with courage, and give me wings to ascend to Your throne of grace. Let me not be afraid, for on the heights of the wind is where I will soar with You.
So on those days in which I falter when I find myself falling through the air, squawking with terrifying protest — those days when life is coming at me fast and hard, and I have no sense of control — I will remember that I am His special treasure and He wants me to fly.
I will remember that on the heights of the wind I will soar with Him.