Stepping in the Mud

Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you. Be self-controlled and alert. Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour.
1 Peter 5: 7 & 8


Occasionally, as I drive from here to there, I see spots that scream for me to come back and them check out (I suppose it’s the left over Girl Scout in me). I recently went for a walk in a beautiful off-the -road spot I’d seen while my son and I were out taking photos. I pulled my Vue up to the edge of the dirt road and parked. Grabbing the camera, a pad and a pencil and I dumped them in my shoulder pack. To my left a rusted rail gate lay broken and shoved to its side. Dead vines wrapped the gate post like ribbon on a May pole.

Tire tracks down the shaded pathway dipped into puddles of standing water , and the black dirt appeared blacker because of the dampness. Shreds of green were beginning to sprout through the dead of winter’s aftermath. This would be a neat place to walk. I stood at the edge of the dirt road and stared down the pathway pondering the best route to avoid the muck that lay in front of me.

Glancing down at my new tennis shoes I took one last look at their luster. I stepped to the left of the tracks onto a slight incline. It only took one step and my feet began to slide. In seconds I stood ankle deep in coal black mud. I tugged at my foot to lift it from the mess. The shoe grumbled with a popping and sucking noise as I worked to free myself from the mire. As if one step wasn’t enough, I took a second step sinking again into the mud. Obviously, I don’t learn from consequence. Now instead of one ruined shoe, I had two.

I did manage to worm my way free of the ick and have a pleasant walk, despite the heaviness of mud attached to me. After my walk I sat down at the car pulling my shoes off and slapping them together to beat the crud from the tread. With each hit I flung mud in an assortment of directions, most of which ended up on my face.

So I looked to the far side of the car and saw the Father leaned against a fence post shaking His head and somewhat bewildered.

“What?” I asked.

“You look pretty silly. I was almost sure I had given you common sense at birth.”

“Aren’t you Mr. Funny.” I mused.

“It’s a gift. It’s a curse. What can I say?” The Father returned the banter. “Wanna tell me why you opted to walk that dirt road when the mud was so obvious? Keep in mind I already know why, I just want to hear your version.”

“Well, I thought I could step over the mud.”

He grinned and asked, “How’d that work for you?”

“Okay, so I thought I could get past without getting dirty. I thought I had it planned out – you know, where to step.”

“I’ve found that’s the problem with so many of my children. They stand and stare head-on at the mud and still step right in the middle. They never seem heed the warnings and they think they can manage by themselves.”

“Well, I thought…..”

“I know, you thought. Why can’t you ask? What’s so hard about asking for help?”

I hung my head. “Uh, well. I…I….I thought I could manage.”

“You did. You managed to ruin a perfectly good pair of tennis shoes. But more than that, I could have helped guide you. Keep you out of the muck and on dry land. It could have been so much easier.” He patted me on the head as He started His walk down the country road, then threw me a backwards wave, chuckling as He stepped over the mud.

When life’s issues stand in our way we do tend to straddle the mud alone. I suppose it’s the prideful part of us that thinks we need little help. We plot and plan and then slip and slide, ending up ankle deep in mud. We end up ruining an awful lot of good shoes in the process.
Learning to cast our anxiety on Him and allowing Christ to take hold and guide us through is hard. We hate to admit we need assistance. But we do, more often than not. Casting our cares onto Him, taking a deep breath and trusting -- believing that He will pull us through is so much easier. God does care for us. He does provide for us. We only have to take the time to ask.