Story and Photos by: Dean Luckenbaugh

 

On a cool, cloudy Monday morning, I finished breakfast with a friend and headed from the DC suburbs to a quiet country retreat for a day set aside to hear from God. Against my will, the radio stayed off and I prayed through my 90 minute drive with brief breaks to check directions (and a few work emails). My human host graciously greeted me, shared the available spaces, and led me to my sweet, small cottage for the day.  My phone data turned off, with 20 minutes before my spiritual dialogue with my host, there was time to explore the grounds. Slowly ambling down the path, my eyes caught the gurgling creek to my left with a lonely bench covered by stray leaves. A deep breath emanated from my soul. My ears were now ready to hear. I followed the path through the woods ducking under spider webs along a corn field, opening up to a wide pasture with a couple black cows enjoying the flowing grass. I wound around back to my cottage, prepared to share my journey and be challenged in my walk and calling. The discussion provided just what I needed – affirmation of my path and pace and practical encouragement to pursue freedom in all its fullness. Now, time alone to begin this pursuit. After a rich time of Scripture and prayer, it was time for a mental break, Mexican food, and an iced cold Coke.

After the first steps from my cottage, a red-haired friend greeted me, fake biting my hands, checking me out, and seeking some affection. With chips and salsa on my mind, I left my friend alone, who sat down disappointed. Did you not know I am here for you?

Much to my surprise, my red-haired friend remained near his post near my cottage, seeking to join me inside. Not knowing if that was allowed, I gently shut the door in his face, expecting him to find more interesting avocations. My plan was to grab my journal and head towards the creek for some time of stillness and reflection. Alas, my friend had not moved, as if he was assigned for my care (or I to his).

Lead Me to the Path

Not hinting to my direction, he bolted ahead of me towards my path. This was not to be a lonely walk.  He just barely kept me in sight, enough for me to know where to go. Continuing to move forward if my distance was reasonable, but casually turning aside if I lagged. He bounded down the hill to the open field leading to the creek which he promptly used as a personal water fountain and cooling agent.

Lead Me to the Water

My previously visited solitary bench called my name. I settled onto the bench, setting my journal down, and took one long deep breath. Peace. As my leader freely frolicked through the shallow water, my rest had started. I could hear His voice. Taking in the serenity, I opened the Scriptures, and my friend, shaking off the remaining moisture from his bath, laid beside me, not asking anything of me. Following a lengthy time of quiet reading and prayer, suddenly, my furry friend headed down the path, turning to stare, his eyes saying, “time to get up and move.” There are more places on our journey. So, I followed.

Lead Me to the Cross

He skillfully navigated fallen trees and a winding, uneven path, turning to make eye contact if I fell back too far. Are you coming? Walking slowly, taking in the simple beauty of the wooded stream, which moved from still water to a babbling brook. My friend had stopped, waiting for my arrival. Approaching him, my eyes turned left to see a bench beneath a plain wooden cross. He led me to the Cross. Ready to dwell there, he moved again, galloping forward, past a beautiful open field, again prompting me to follow. I obeyed.

Lead Me to the End (or Beginning)

He disappeared towards (and in) the water beyond my eyesight. Our stroll brought me to the end of the path, and the beginning of the stream. This spoke with force. An end is also the beginning of something connected, but new. For a time, I remained there, playing with this intersection of old and new. Refreshed and refocused, he headed down the stream, back from whence we came. Wisdom will know when to make this complete turn. Gathering my thoughts, I again followed.

Dwell with Me at the Cross

On the return, I was drawn to bench at the Cross, alone. Beautifully quiet moments to bask in God’s grace, mercy, and sacrificial love for me, to be intentionally in His Presence. My solitude was briefly broken by my friend’s return. Requiring no attention, he laid at my feet, with me. We sat, together. Worshipping the Living God.

Letting me walk alone

After these glorious moments at the Cross, my friend sat up seeking attention and companionship, rejoicing together in this precious Savior. After satisfying his craving for endless affection, he took off down the path much further ahead then before, with no glances back. At first, depending on his immediate presence, I sought to follow, yet discerned it was time to pursue my own path. He moved past our original bench to an open field, sauntering into the distance, as I chose an uphill path back to the cabin. Walking by faith, not sight.

Meet me at the end – always with you, even to the end of the age.

This new path eventually tied into the path from where we started, past a play area towards the house. I laughed at this metaphorical teaching of God’s ways and plans by the family dog.  Seeing the house, I thought how I apt it was that I returned alone. Yet, my lesson was not complete.  Turning the corner to the cabin entrance, my friend arrived precisely at the same time, wagging and smiling, from a complete different path. His purposes are always good and we will arrive precisely when He means us to. He has already been there and has always been with me, even to end of my days.

Yates. My Aslan for the day. Thank you!