The New Nomads

                                                  

In the muted morning light, the tawny-haired lion with the shaggy golden mane and the dark brown tuft on the tip of his tail strolled toward us before pausing a lion’s leap away, more enticed by the alluring smell of rare rhino dung than the amazed and somewhat frightened bipeds in the green, open-air Land Rover. Flinging himself on the twiggy manure, he rolled and stretched and luxuriated, his unblinking, fathomless gold-speckled eyes glancing our way as if to demand we applaud his royal performance. Which we did. Silently. But what we didn’t know was that a more powerful and youthful male had usurped his position, rejecting him from his reigning tenure over the rocky, sweet-thorned, acacia territory he once ruled, and now, forced to live a more nomadic life, he wasn’t sure what to do next.

Captured by the fantasy of what he represented, we didn’t see the reality of how he lived: a powerful, majestic king without a throne. Perspective, really. A symbolic reminder that there’s usually more to know than what we see. And the lone lion, rejected by his pride, was now invisible to those that had been part of his life, and he was lost.

I wrote those words in 2015, but I’m wondering how many of us feel the same way right now—alone, invisible to those around us, and somewhat lost. Wandering from room to room in our own homes, while sheltering in place, we’re unsure of what will come next.  

Recently, a friend confided how bamboozled she felt in these quarantined days. Bamboozled, indeed! Frustrated, dazed, and confused, she needed a human touch, so she reached out to those she loved and shared her distressed heart. Over the phone, we listened to each other. We laughed with each other. We encouraged each other. And gradually, together, we did the lemonade dance, the one where the sour moments turn sweet.

In Psalm 30:11, King David declares, “You have changed my sadness into a joyful dance; you have taken away my sorrow and surrounded me with joy”(GNT). David’s praise is my prayer: “Lord God, surround us with joy.” I’m going to believe that God can and that He will because that’s the truth in his Word, which I’m going to esteem more than wallow in my own muck. I’m going to trust God to do what He says He will do for God is perfectly willing to exchange confusion and sadness for peace and joy.

For this season we are the new nomads, wandering from room to room in our homes, distanced from each other physically; yet we are able to touch each other in countless ways. God surrounded David with joy and filled him with praise, which encourages me to pray: “Show me creative ways, Lord God, to surround others with love during this perplexing season of life.” And I also pray that I'll emerge as a more compassionate, resilient, and lion-hearted woman who praises God, regardless of the season.

We left South Africa with enchanting memories of God’s creatures blazed forever in our minds and imprinted on our hearts. The dark brown waterbuck that looked as if he sat down on a freshly-painted white toilet seat, the lazing cheetah in the orange-brown bush that calmly watched us while we somewhat fearfully stared back, the young, male giraffes banging their long, sunlit necks against each other as they fought for dominance, and the angry, aggressive elephant in musth charging down the road as our camp ranger hurried us out of his way.

But it was my last, lingering look at the golden-maned lion ambling across the Kwandwe thicket that has stayed with me the longest. His commanding presence silenced all sound but the pounding of my heart, and his royal magnificence reminded me that I worship the One who created the world and all that is in it. The Creator who makes the invisible visible. The Creator who is more than able to take away our sorrow and fill us with His joy.

-adapted from Like a Sweet Fragrance by Becky Finch Bader