At The Stoplight | 1 John 2:5-6

Photo Credit - Timothy Ritz

By this we may know that we are in him: whoever says he abides in him ought to walk in the same way in which he walked. 

--

I falter at a stoplight in Tel Aviv and the traffic rushes by. 

He ran forward with confidence. Of course he did - his mind was like a lightning bolt, always obeying him as he acted. He beat the light and the angsty pedal-foot of an Israeli man driving home from work, but I hesitated. Only a second, only a breath too long, but it was still enough. He stood on the other side of the road looking back towards me, blipping in and out of view as the cars jostled past us. We were twenty feet apart. I could still see him. But for all the world, it felt like a million miles. 

What is the walk with Yahweh like? 

We waddle behind Him as infants in the early days – surely the nation of Israel questioned Him like a child when they first had when they climbed out of Egypt's underbelly. “Why is the sky so big?” “Who are all these people?” “I’m hungry.” We cling to the hem of His robe and depend on Him for every move, every meal, every glimmer of an idea. 

In our years of rebellion, perhaps before we ever came to know Him or even in some disgusted, childish fit of rage against a Father we know, we crossed our arms and refused to be moved. “I knew how stubborn you were. Your neck muscles were as unbending as iron. Your forehead was as hard as bronze.” (Isaiah 48:4) We resisted His wisdom. We pulled hard against the lead rope - there was no hesitation in the way we ran the opposite way.

Yet, perhaps we see in a mirror dimly. Perhaps we know, if only as a dream, what it is to walk beside Him.

In this dream, we keep up with the long strides of the Spirit – we abide in His Word, and His Word abides in us, as closely as a memory. Our conversation lingers through the day as we see what unfolds together, not apart. He occupies space ahead of us, and all the past behind us, but in that moment, we feel that He is right next to us. We do not wonder where He might go next - we feel that it will only be the next step, and since we are joined to Him at the hip we know that it will only be a matter of stepping in sync.

As I let myself enjoy the closeness of His presence, I warn my spirit against the hesitation at an Israeli stoplight. I trust where You’re going right up until the moment I don’t and, as a horse might dig his heels in at a creek, so I hesitate and let You walk on. I am waiting at the stoplight because I was afraid. We are a million miles apart. 

Traffic passed and I rushed across the street, breathless and a little ashamed. 

“Keep up with me next time, kid.” He was firm, but he was smiling. It is never too late to cross over. Somehow, this wide ocean of the Father’s patience envelopes even the timid. And when we cross, falling back into stride with Him, we mimic the way He smiles and the joy in His face – we have learned a lesson we won’t quickly forget. 

At the next stoplight, I will run after You.