A PAIR OF DUCKS- And how we find higher ground.

Photo by Christian Bowen on Unsplash

When we came off the mission field after ten years on the ranch, our debrief coaches handed us two plastic ducks. The kind you had in the bathtub as a kid. These “pair of ducks,” they explained, represented both the good and the bad of our experience on the field. There were parts we loved—launching a ministry, meeting a new culture and new people, freedom to dream. And parts we hated—unending demands, new rules we didn’t understand, less comforts.

But both were a part of it. Both the good and the bad. And both were a part of life.

A “pair of ducks”—A paradox. 

That’s what life is.

We run and hide. We fear. We question. We become angry with the system, angry at each other. And then we don’t. Then we find peace. And joy. And we rest in the blessings around us—the extra time with our kids. The new cadence and rhythm of our lives.

After the mission field, we lived in a 900 square foot house with seven people and one bathroom. In the frustrating craziness of that, we reminded ourselves that someday we would look back on that house with gratitude. We would see it as just what we needed in that moment—just the thing God knew we needed. And that the solitude would bring a measure of joy. A dose of healing. And a portion of rest. But it was hard to see when we were fighting for the bathroom or sleeping with the laundry spinning next to the bed. Or when we questioned why we were there and worried about what our future held.

So yes, a few years later, we see it much differently. But why couldn’t we see it then. Why couldn’t we see that house, the solitude shut away from the world for just a moment, as the haven it would become. Our chance to stop and breathe deeply for a while. Just a little while. To take it all in.

That’s how life rolls. That’s the paradox. That in the midst of the storm, there is something beautiful brewing. A new respect for one another. A new quietness in our souls. A new trust in our Lord.

And it’s not so much that we ignore the bad and focus on the good, but that in both, we find the higher ground. The greater purpose. We open our eyes to see the depth of both the shadows and the highlights. Because the full revelation requires both.

The question is, how will we look back on this moment? What will we see? And how can we find that now, not later?

The house on Cullen Street became a sanctuary when we bathed it in gratitude. When our shortcomings were laid bare before a good, good father. When we trusted all that He had for his children even when it looked scary and unpredictable. When we took a blind step, knowing He held us up. When we put on our spirit eyes and knew it went beyond what we thought we saw in front of us.

When we trusted. And allowed ourselves to grow and deepen with both pair of ducks in hand.

Everything You Need Is Here!!!

Rancho el Camino, La Paz, Mexico (www.ranchoelcamino.org) - founded in 2007, Peter and Cher Gatto

Before there was a ranch, there was nothing. Well, if you count cactus and hornet’s nests, there was something. But the potential for something beautiful, something vibrant was lacking and the resources were scarce. It was rough. Really rough. Coyote and cowhide tough. The stuff desert fathers are made of.

Our friends and family who visited the ranch in its early days forbade us from attempting life out there. From raising our kids in the middle of the desert without electricity or running water, and starting a ministry from an abandoned lot tucked out of reach. Four miles of dirt between us and the nearest convenience store.   

One day, sitting on a cracked cement step, taking in the vast emptiness that we believed God had called us to, my husband Peter prayed: Lord, I need to know this is You. I need to know You are in this, because if You’re not, I will surely die.

It sounds tongue and cheek when we say it today, but it was real. The task was daunting. We had unending limitations. And it would have killed us had we gone alone.

 The Lord answered—as clearly as if He had been sitting on the step and gazing out at that same desert and that same emptiness in that very moment. He said: Yes, Peter. It is Me. And everything you need is right here.

Everything.

The palms we would cut. The wells we would tap. The friends we would make. The ministry He would build. Everything.

That was true then. And it is true right now. Somehow it is harder to remember here. I have forgotten what Everything means. When the comforts are easier, perhaps the answers become cloudy.

But the reality is, I don’t need to be on a vacant ranch to feel empty.

I can come to the end of myself all on my own. I can be surrounded by affluence, career momentum, hordes of people and still feel a vacancy. A heavy burden I can’t bear. As though surely, I will die if I have to go it alone. The amount of effort and pace and endurance just to keep my head above water has the potential to derail me.

The void is real. The emptiness, the lack of resources, the shortcoming of strength and perseverance, the power we give others to determine our worth, the barrenness of our day or purposelessness of our steps.

But wherever we might be, desert or crowd, the truth stands just as real.

God says, I have everything you need, and I am right here. Everything. All the resources I lack to be whole and complete. To stand tall and finish strong. To break the bonds and be a victor despite my brokenness. Despite my circumstances. To throw off my need for approval, acknowledgment, accolades and find rest, deep rest in Him.

“Adam was created on the sixth day. Clearly, then, he had no part in those first six days of work, for he came into being only at their end. God’s seventh day was, in fact, Adam’s first. Whereas God worked six days and then enjoyed his sabbath rest, Adam began his life with the sabbath; for God works before he rests, while man must first enter into God’s rest, and then alone can he work.” (Watchman Nee)

Man must first enter into God’s rest, and then alone can he work.

We have it backwards. Sunday begins the week, it doesn’t end it. Whatever your day is, Sunday or another, enter into the Sabbath first. This, my friend, is the key to the emptiness. To mine. And to yours. That we rest in Him FIRST. I know we’ve heard it and even believed it. Why then do we fail to receive it?

And here is the coolest part. “It was because God’s work of creation was truly complete that Adam’s life could begin with rest.” (Nee)

He did it all. It’s finished already. Whatever you are striving for, it’s been done. Whatever you might think is missing, it is not. This is His gift to us.

Breathe Him in. Breathe yourself out. And find today that you lack nothing.