From the end of the earth will I call unto thee, when my heart is overwhelmed:Lead me to the rock that is higher than
I. Ps 61:2
Land’s End.
Here I was. Land’s End is the most south western tip of Cornwall. It has a counterpart in the north east. People that travel from one end to the other are called end-to-enders.
I haven’t done that. It was more by chance that I was here. A 3-week vacation with my wife traveling England, Cornwall, and Wales brought me here.
But there was more to it. Land’s End.
Many different pictures browsed through my mind. I thought of uncharted territory, unknown and therefore covered. In this case covered by the sea.
I thought of the allegory of the bible, using the sea as a picture for the people that do not believe in God.
I thought of the great men standing at the sea shore and building their guts to take the risk – go further than any man had ever gone, to see whether there was something waiting behind the horizon.
I thought of all the occasions in my life when I felt like I was at – Land’s End. No further to go, unless. Unless I mustered the chutzpah to walk on water. To take a step of faith. Or I could just stay or even go back. Call it an experience, maybe even put up a warning sign. Beware of the steep cliffs.
But wait – beyond the cliffs, built on some rocks out in the surf, there was a lighthouse. Built to warn whoever was coming this way, it to me looked like an outpost of humanity, an outreach into the unknown. This wasn’t Land’s End. There were ways to go beyond.
No ferry, no boat, no bridge led to the tiny island with its withered landmark – because that was its purpose: to mark the land.
How would anybody ever reach the lighthouse? It seemed as if it hadn’t be used in ages. Makes sense in the age of GPS.
Still – the cliffs, the breakers would prevent anybody to easily reach it. Dive and walk on water.
What? Where did that come from? Dive and walk on water? Sure, as if I had the courage to dive for – let’s say – 200 meters easily. And so far I only thought of walking on water metaphorically.
Fighting myself, fighting that small, still voice within me, embarrassed by yet fully understanding my cowardice, I started to understand: this was a defining moment in my life. My reaction would make or brake my future.
With all faith I could muster I started to prepare for what seemed to be certain death. And I jumped.
The next moment I found myself in the lighthouse. I was right: it had been abandoned for ages. To me it seemed as if only its builder had ever been here and nobody since then had dared to jump.
It was an unusual lighthouse. It was full of books. A library. Sure, a lighthouse keeper probably had a lot of time at his hand and needed something to do. But this was different.
And suddenly I knew. This was an outpost in the sea of knowledge. Knowledge surpassing the natural. Surpassing scientific discoveries. Surpassing human wisdom. Godly principles, God’s wisdom for the ages, God’s words for the time. The time called Now.
I had been here before. Once I was caught up in a vision into a library as big as the congressional library in Washington, DC. Or even much bigger. I had been assigned a booth with a desk, a notebook, a fountain pen, a lamp, a chair, and a comfy recliner. Hundreds of books in my booth at my discretion to read. Whatever I read, I processed an wrote into the notebook, thus making it known to the interested. Whoever had ears to listen.
I was back. This was my booth. It had grown. I knew that there were more of these places available, made ready for this time. But only few would muster the bravery to jump. Or whatever was necessary to reach their outpost, their window of heaven.
I do not know what form the other outpost have. Mine was and is a library. I love to read, to study. I love the solitude. I love to write. If you feel called to a similar place, you have to find out what yours looks like.
I started to read. I took a book, sat down in the comfy chair that fit me perfectly, and read, and wrote, and thought, and prayed. I took some other books and started to build connections between them, to work out some principles from the seemingly unconnected stories. Networked thinking, crossing the boundaries of disciplines. God, the builder of this, my very own place of home, knows me deeply and intimately. He had designed me for this, and designed this for me. A perfect fit. This was my call. A solitary place in midst of the unknown, to make known to man not only the principles of God, but God himself.
I found books with personal stories, but not too many. God knew that I am not a great fan of biographies. But they greatly complemented the more theoretical books with life examples on how to implement whatever I learned.
The books I read were about fatherhood, fivefold ministry, the body of Christ, the bride of Christ, the finished work of Jesus, maturity, sonship, oneness in God. And it all started to make sense. These were but dimensions of the same uncharted land. The promised land.
Suddenly I found myself back on the shore of Cornwall. No time had passed. I had not jumped physically. But I knew that I would have many occasions to jump again and be in this wonderful place. I longed to be there again. I had to learn to go there on my discretion.
Frankly, some time has past now, and the memory started to fade. Life had me back, with many things happening that needed my attention. But from time to time I got another glimpse at the lighthouse, at my very own place in midst of the sea of knowledge. Just enough to keep a small flame alive, a flame of desire to go back.
Until this morning. This morning I am reminded of the details of the place so vividly I had to let you in on it. The flame has become a fire again.
I will leave you here. I am ready to jump again. Go, look for your very own place. Talk to the master builder. He built something for you.
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