Carrie Cox’s Corner

Our pastor, Bro. Brad, preaches an awesome message titled, “What Mean These Stones.” With this message he reads about the stones that were taken from the middle of the Jordan River when the Children of Israel crossed over on dry land (like they did through the Red Sea). He says that throughout time, each person who brought a stone up would be able to reminisce and teach his children and grandchildren not only about the miracle of crossing the Jordan, but also about the things that were experienced in the Wilderness, about coming out of Egypt. These stones are a memorial to teach, and those lessons that the teacher has learned are not to be forgotten.

After this Old Testament review, Bro. Brad starts teaching the miracles, the lessons, the great things the Lord has done in his own life: salvation, a spouse, the Spirit….and other big milestones in his life of how the Lord has grown him personally. He makes a visual pile of books, and before the end of the message, this pile is towering high.

It is a big blessing, and one of my favorite messages. You can’t help but reflect back in your own life to the great things that have been done.

Two years ago in 2022 I was having probably the hardest year of my life. We went to a little Family camp in September of that year, and one afternoon I took a walk.

The next morning as I sat on the back porch of the big cabin in a swing that overlooked the water, this is what I wrote the following reflection of my experience.

“Rocks”
Camp Winnataska, September 22,2022

“You’re not going to get any help just lying in this bunk,” the Lord whispered to my heart. So I wiped my eyes, got up, and went for a walk. 

     I saw the gazebo of stone by the chapel in honor of 3 year old Emily who died from a fire in 1918. Her parents wrote a beautiful tribute remembering her and honoring God that was framed at the entrance. As I circled around the memorial, running my hands along the large rough stones, the Lord began clearly speaking to my heart. 

   “Tragedy is no stranger. It has come to young and old for all generations. It’s what you do with it. What mean these stones?”

    “I just have rocks in my heart right now—

Anger, hurt, bitterness.”

    “Why don’t you find those rocks then, Carrie?”

So I began a walk down the road by the tabernacle gathering rocks. 

    “This one is for losing Katie, and this one is for the terribly hard year that we’ve had,” I said as I picked up two rocks on the path. “This one is for the irony that when we went to rest in the summer with our friends to get away from the heavy workload, that we unknowingly walked into one of the greatest trials of our lives. This one is for your divine appointment and the understanding that you wanted us to be there. This is a big rock, and it is so heavy. It hurts. This one is for the trauma we all experienced the day he drowned. This one is for the fears that come and overwhelm Hunter, the ache of seeing your daughter learn that life is short-she grew up this summer. This one is for Nathan and all the burdens that he has to carry and for the physical pain he is having, and this one is for crying myself to sleep just about every night.”

    This continued as I walked through the path in the woods until I had gathered in my two arms at least thirty rocks. They were not easy to carry. I kept dropping them, tripping with them. They made me dirty. 

     I felt the Lord telling me to keep walking, to just make it to the end of this path, to walk up the hill of this gravely road. I wanted to find some special place to cast these aside, maybe a large body of water, to hear the plunk as they dropped down. Maybe a beautiful outdoor sanctuary with a clearing and a cross with the sun shining behind it. No. Nothing. There was nothing here. I was in the woods alone. 

     “I can’t go any farther,” I feared. “Nathan will be worried and start looking for me. I don’t have my phone. My watch is dead.  I didn’t even tell him where I was going.” Pick up two more stones for fear and guilt. 

    “God, there is nothing here.” I looked around. “Nothing except this dead ugly tree.” It was tall, gray, almost jagged with two bony fingers pointing to the sky. I could not carry my rocks any further, so I started chunking them as this tree, naming them and counting them as I threw. Many missed their mark, but several hit with a satisfying thump or thud. I threw them all. 

    I stood there empty handed, but with an ache still in my heart. The Lord whispered this truth in my heart, “Calvary was just an ugly dead tree. For centuries mankind has been chunking their sins and transgressions at it. Yet it still stands.”

    I left, still feeling empty but pondering this truth. As I started walking back, I began quoting Scriptures to my anxious heart. Psalms 23, “The Lord is my shepherd…,” Psalms 1, “Blessed is the man…,” Isaiah 53 “…he was wounded for our transgressions…and by his stripes we are healed…, and 1 John 1:9 “If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.” 

   I started to pray-to chunk my sins and burdens into the endless fountain of the blood of Christ, where they are erased without even leaving a ripple in the water. I looked around, I was on a different path now, a paved road. One that was smoother and ran parallel with the one that I was on. Both were heading in the same direction, but this one was smooth. It had peace. As I continued to walk back, each step filled my heart with more joy and peace than the last. The rocks were gone, and in their place were stones that had built a memorial, a place to remember and worship what the Lord had done for me. 

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Check out all the posts from my November Thankful Challenge