Walled In

Christian Guthier Flickr cc

By Tiffany Deluccia

I stumbled through the thicket, through the tangled mess of overgrown vegetation, trying to get to the wall, the stone inhibition rising ahead and as far as I could see. Arm outstretched, leaning, my hand hit the cold rock. Solid. Impenetrable. Disappointed.


What was that?

A rumbling, a shaking. This wall wasn’t the end. Something raged brilliantly on the other side, calling to me, “Find me. Join me.”

Pulling myself closer, ear against the stone, I listened. Yes! It was calling to me; the low voice actually seemed to know my name–my hopes, my fears, everything I’d ever dreamed could be true.

So, I followed the wall to the left, tearing through the thicket, heart now beating to the wild song on the other side, until I found myself back where I started. I felt for sure I had missed some way out, so I turned to the right, feeling along the wall, inch by inch, the whole way.

Back at the start again. Dejected.

How could I leave this desolate place? How could I know what called to me?

So I shouted, with head tilted up and hands at my mouth so my voice could be heard on the other side of that which shut me out:

“If you want me, here I am!”

Suddenly, the blocks at the top of the wall started crumbling, not falling away but disintegrating into nothingness. Down from the top, row by row, until in the narrow window now created, about four feet wide, I began to see a tempestuous body of water. A river lapping at the wall, annihilating the last few hindrances in my path.

Exhilarated, I started to walk towards it, but I was accosted from behind by a buzzing insect. All at once it swarmed me, drowning out the sound of the water, clouding my view of the path in front. I fanned my arms but could not deter them. In desperation, I tried again what had resulted in breakthrough before. This time, I screamed:

“If you want me, here I am!”

The buzzing ceased and ahead I could feel the change in pressure; I could see the swell that built upon itself, and louder than ever, I could hear it say my name. Clearly, sweetly.

“Do I dare go? Dare I run?” I thought.

My feet crunched dead leaves and smeared gray mud; I was moving toward it. Faster now. Stone. Sand. Running now. Water, ankle deep, waist deep, submerged. Gasping for air and breathing. A glorious sun broke through the clouds and lit my new world. I rose from the deep to survey the surroundings. This was no four foot wide river stretching to the horizon. Left, right, as far as I could see, ocean gloried. Instant panic stole my breath.

“This is too big for me; I can’t manage this.” And the whisper that had called my name responded from all around me.

“I didn’t ask you to.” 

Relief. Joy. I dove back in. I floated and the water upheld me. I belonged in the deep, where I could not sustain myself.

This story was based on a vision God gave me during a time of fasting in 2013. He led me to take some major steps of faith at that time, one of which was starting this blog, and I can’t begin to tell you all the ways the chain reaction of saying “yes” has shaped my life. God-sized dreams are more than we can handle, but they suit us perfectly. He gifts us each uniquely for the call that will come. I hope this encourages you as much as it did me!

Photo Credit: Christian Guthier via Flickr Creative Commons

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