What Fifty Squirts Can Teach You

If you could go to the other side of the world and turn back the calendar pages approximately a year and half, you'd find me on a beautiful Javanese beach, bookended by hills covered with jungle greenery. My friends and I had arrived at the turtle sanctuary located near the beach the night before and had the privilege of watching a sea turtle lay her eggs in the sand and bury them by the light of the moon with the crashing of the ocean waves in the background. Now, this morning, we had fifty baby sea turtles that were ready to be released on their own journeys into the wide expanse of the Indian Ocean.

They looked so small and wiggled more than worms. (It's quite pathetic, but when I held them, I kept thinking of Squirt from Finding Nemo.) As we pulled the crawling creatures out of the bucket we were given and watched them scuttle towards the sea, ready to explore life with no plastic boundaries, I remembered thinking that I'd heard something from somewhere that sea turtles come back to the same beach they were born. I recently checked to verify this fact, and I found that it is true (however, it's only the females that come back). It honestly boggles my mind, and the minds of scientists who study sea turtles, to think that something small enough to fit in the palm of my hand can travel the vast expanse of the ocean, grow, learn, change, fight predators, find food, and then navigate her way back to the same beach where she was born.

I think if I'd been one of those tiny turtles I set on the shore, once I got an eyeful of the Indian Ocean with its enormous waves and endless waters that seem to disappear into the horizon, I'd be booking it back to that bucket faster than you can say, "Just keep swimming, just keep swimming!" I'd probably need a few appointments with a counselor to help me sort through some anxiety issues and get over the fear of leaving home and my hundred or so brothers and sisters whom I would be very attached to. That's probably why I'm not a turtle.

Although lately, I've been feeling like one, like I've been set on the shore of a humongous ocean and I'm supposed to jump in. However, I'm not sure which way to go and, to be frank, I'm scared and would almost rather crawl back into the bucket. Thinking about the future sometimes (often) tends to make me anxious. Certain thoughts about what I'm going to do with my life will spark in my mind and set me on a depressing hamster wheel thought train that goes faster and faster until I'm exhausted and overwhelmed because I wasn't born with an Allie Wahlman's Life Journey Manual (though I sometimes [often] almost wish I was) and I don't know what I'm doing with my life! *deep breath*

However, if God can show those fifty Squirts where they're supposed to go and what they're supposed to do, if He can show a turtle how to get back to her home beach after thousands and thousands of miles of wandering, then maybe...maybe He can help me find my way.

I'm not speaking from a place of perfect trust and surrender to the Lord (pray for me). I'm speaking from a place of fear of the unknown. I'm not really sure what's going to happen in the next couple of years, whether I'll be at Fountainview or somewhere else. But the memory of fifty sea turtles scuttling across the sand toward something bigger than they've ever dreamed of keeps coming to mind, reminding me I will find my way, as an Andrew Peterson song puts it, I will find my way back home. The same God who guides the turtles through the monstrous waves can and will help me find my way if I stick with Him.

You'll Find Your Way by Andrew Peterson

When I look at you, boy
I can see the road that lies ahead
I can see the love and the sorrow

Bright fields of joy
Dark nights awake in a stormy bed
I want to go with you, but I can’t follow

So keep to the old roads
Keep to the old roads
And you’ll find your way

Your first kiss, your first crush
The first time you know you’re not enough
The first time there’s no one there to hold you

The first time you pack it all up
And drive alone across America
Please remember the words that I told you

Keep to the old roads
Keep to the old roads
And you’ll find your way
You’ll find your way

If love is what you’re looking for
The old roads lead to an open door
And you’ll find your way
You’ll find your way
Back home

And I know you'll be scared when you take up that cross
And I know it'll hurt, 'cause I know what it costs
And I love you so much and it's so hard to watch
But you're gonna grow up and you're gonna get lost
Just go back, go back

Go back, go back to the ancient paths
Lash your heart to the ancient mast
And hold on, boy, whatever you do
To the hope that's taken hold of you
And you'll find your way
You'll find your way
If love is what you’re looking for
The old roads lead to an open door
And you’ll find your way
You’ll find your way
Back home

Do It Yourself

"And many of the Samaritans of that city believed in Him because of the word of the woman who testified....Then [a couple days later] they said to the woman, 'Now we believe, not because of what you said, for we ourselves have heard Him and we know that this is indeed the Christ, the Savior of the world'" (John 4:39, 42 NKJV).

A little over three years ago, he didn't exist; he wasn't even a cute, baby blue thought twinkling in anyone's mind. Now he's a real little boy, toddling around on foot-long legs that grow sturdier by the day. So much has changed in three-ish years. When he was a reddish, wrinkled new born, my sister woke up at all sorts of unearthly hours of the night to nurse him, change his colorfully overflowing diapers, burp him, or just rock him so he could feel Mama close. As time passed and he grew, he learned to hold his head up on his own wobbly neck. Somewhere along the way Catie had to buy bigger diapers. More calendar pages turned and he was crawling around like a little beetle all over the kitchen tile. He could sit in his high chair and "open wide for the airplane!" His menu has now expanded from breast milk and blended fruit to most of what's on the table for Mom and Dad. And today, instead of taking a few steps on legs that are as jiggly as jello, he walks with the confidence fitting a toddling, little boy. 

Obviously, I hope that Gabe will continue to grow stronger and become more confident and mature.  Hopefully, when he's sixteen, he'll be able to go to the bathroom by himself and not need a Cars themed potty to help get him excited and motivated to relieve himself. Hopefully, he'll be able to communicate in full coherent sentences instead of crying or speaking the spotty one or two syllable word. Hopefully, I won't need to sit in front of him and request in a mickey-mouse voice that he "open wide for the choo-choo train." Hopefully, when he's sixteen, he'll be shoveling food into his mouth and filling his proverbial hollow legs. He'll eventually become an intelligent, independent, faithful, godly man who can take care of himself, hopefully. 

The salvational experience of the Samaritans in John 4 parallels the maturing process of a child. Their faith was conceived and birthed through the testimony of the woman at the well. She shared with them the truth she'd discovered, parenting their belief in Jesus. They fed off of her experience. They toddled on their legs of newborn faith in Jesus as the Messiah. But as time ticked and they matured in their experience, they soon found that they no longer were looking to her to find spiritual sustenance, but rather could feed themselves. They went from believing in Jesus because of her personal experience to believing in Jesus because "we ourselves have heard Him and we know that this is indeed the Christ, the Savior of the world" (John 4:42 NKJV). 

I believe it's very important that I grow and mature spiritually, just like my nephew does physically. It's important that I learn to sustain myself and not feed solely off of my family's faith or depend purely on my pastor, maintaining a parasitical piety. I don't want to simply live off someone else's experience. I want my relationship with God to be just that: mine. 

There are some of us who should be able to feed ourselves, but, for some reason, still expect someone to ask us to "open wide for the airplane." Every week we're counting on the sermon to shore up our slumping spirituality. This is totally OK for a fledgling in the faith, but when you're "21," your Gerber food and diaper days should be long gone.

I'm not pointing fingers; though I've had experiences where I know God has revealed Himself to me, I still see an area for growth that's bigger than the Grand Canyon. God is calling each of us to embark on our own journey, guided by personal, daily Bible study and prayer. He's asking us to "call upon Me and go and pray to Me, and I will listen to you. And you will seek Me and find Me, when you search for Me with all your heart. I will be found by you, says the Lord..." (Jeremiah 29:12-14 NKJV). 

I'm now twenty-one. I should brush my teeth myself. I should put on my clothes myself. I should feed my mouth forkfuls of food by myself. There are many things I should do myself.

One of them is believe.

Because I've "heard Him and... know that this is indeed the Christ, the Savior of the world" (John 4:42 NKJV).