Ever feel that bittersweet pang of remembrance when you return to a place from your past? Ever catch a whiff of a long-forgotten scent — and find yourself transported back in time?
Psychologists have a name for the way our physical senses attach us to memories and feelings: grounding.
Grounding is powerful. The reason that subjects of sensory deprivation tank experiments start feeling crazy is they can’t tell where they are or what is happening.
They have no reference point. They are not grounded.
So I’m sitting in dappled sunlight on the deck of my in-laws’ home on the grounds of Mount Hermon Christian Conference Center, a house that was built 45 years ago, a home away from home for 32 of my years.
The larger story is, Scott and I met on the grounds of this center, got married in the auditorium, and both served on staff. When we left the area 24 years ago, this house was a place to which we could always return.
It’s our last remaining root here.
But now, Scott’s parents are in a decision-making stage of life, and the house is on the market. We are enjoying it for what could be the last time.
So I breathe in the pungent scent of bay laurels, lift my gaze to the towering redwoods, and listen to the wail of the little steam engine’s whistle across the road in Henry Cowell State Park, where I will run in the morning.
My soul twists inside. I feel the imminent uprooting. It hurts.
There is something about place that is critical to the human heart. Yes, we are pilgrims on this earth, but for now, it’s home.
So I mourn, yet my spirit reflects on a greater reality. Paul prays,
“…that you, being rooted and grounded in love, may have strength to comprehend with all the saints what is the breadth and length and height and depth, and to know the love of Christ that surpasses knowledge.” — Ephesians 3:17-19a.
Is it possible to be so rooted and grounded in Christ, so solid and secure in his love, that we are unshakeable?
Back when we lived in this area, one fine October afternoon, the famous 1989 World Series earthquake struck. Our house, ten miles from the epicenter, shook violently as the quake roared like a freight train running through my living room.
Dishes crashed onto the kitchen counter where I was baking cookies with my two little boys. I managed to get them both outside, all the while screaming, “Jesus!” at the top of my lungs.
That night, the whole neighborhood slept on front lawns, too nervous to be inside. On Sunday, our church met in its parking lot, not in the building. In the weeks following, people streamed to counselors’ offices, especially war veterans whose PTSD was triggered.
When the very ground beneath our feet betrays us, we are profoundly affected. We become fearful, insecure, anxious.
This need to be tethered to reality, this fundamental need for security and stability, applies not just to our hearts and minds, but our spirits.
The need for psychological grounding is critical, but the need for spiritual grounding runs even deeper.
If we are profoundly shaken by shifting earth, if we lose touch with what is real when deprived of our senses, how much more do we need to know exactly where we are spiritually!
Paul wasn’t indulging in wishful thinking while writing Ephesians. He was praying, confidently making a realistic request based on the truth.
The love of Christ is more real, more solid, more stable than the very ground beneath your feet, or any memory you can possibly recall.
His love is what tethers you to reality.
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By the way, one my favorite places on earth is Big Basin State Park. Perhaps you know of it? Just outside of the Felton/Boulder Creek area on Highway 9 (If I remember correctly). Oh the peacefulness of walking among the giant redwoods – my favorite trees!
Those trees are amazing. God’s giants, reminding me of how small I am and how big he is!
Fantastic post, and I can relate to the insecurity coming from those unpredictable earthquakes! When my ground shakes, my faith does not because “I have this hope as an anchor for my soul.” I may be shaken, but I am not moved. Indeed, “His love tethers {me} to reality.”
It’s so good to have the most important type of security! Thanks, Dawn.