Lyrics from Born Again by Cory Asbury
The orange sun fell behind the Sea of Galilee as the second day of my journey came to an end. The moon slowly made its way above the blanket of stars overlooking the distant mountains in Ginosar, Israel.
It was hot and humid during the summer of 2017.
As I walked past the coffee shop and bar into the meadow beyond the kibbutz, I felt lonely. Part of me yearned to share this night with someone. I had asked a few friends to join me, but the day’s events at Mount Precipice had drained everyone. The more I walked, the more I appreciated the solitude.
I needed the silence.
For in that silence, I felt the sea calling to me.
Moonlight cascaded off my pale face and illuminated the sand beneath my feet. I ached to feel the Lord beside me.
I recently listened to Cory Asbury’s song “Born Again,” and it perfectly embodied the serenity of the memories made on Galilee’s shore.
“Take me by the hand and walk with me by quiet streams.”
Oh, how I needed him.
My running had caught up with me and weighed heavily on my conscience. I had filled my life with other loves, running to everyone else but God.
Still, the Lord was with me that night as He always had been. He was calling me back to Himself.
The chalky gravel cut my toes as I approached the water’s edge. I peeled my sandals off then gradually stepped knee deep into the murky darkness. Wading into the lapping, chilly water, sharp stones challenged my steps.
“I need to hear the wind and feel the ground beneath my feet.”
Flickering city lights danced on the water’s surface as I gathered my skirt around me. The stars that embroidered the sky reminded me of God’s promise to Abraham in Genesis, “Now look towards the heavens, and count the stars, if you are able to number them. So shall your descendants be” (Genesis 15:5).
I had heard that verse before, but in that moment the gravity of its truth came to life. For I knew that I was one of those stars. From a prophecy thousands of years ago, passing through the tattered pages of history, merciless wars, exiles and famines, I was alive as a testament of God’s promise.
In the silent presence of the Lord, all else faded.
“..in the quiet pride of my father’s eyes I remember who I am.”
Unlike the many holy sites in Israel whose buildings had fallen over time, the water on the Sea of Galilee remained untouched by the torrent of time. Jesus had been here. He had walked on these waters.
I closed my eyes and envisioned the silhouette of Jesus on the waters before me with His disciples during a violent storm.
In my mind, I saw Him call out to Peter as He glided across the waves, beckoning him to follow. My imagination was blurred, yet I saw Jesus stepping into the boat with Peter. Physically strapping, powerful, handsome and kind, this was a man I hadn’t known. When I looked into the face of Jesus, He was more human than I expected but more divine than I could put into words. I always believed he was real, but here, as spirit became flesh on the waters, my faith became sight.
Jesus was God transformed into human flesh purposed to captivate his own creation and call them to Himself. I was drawn to Him.
His eyes were filled with love and a peace that only He could give. The truth of the line “you’re the only friend that can set my soul at ease” shattered shallow imitations that once filled my loneliness.
For the first time, I knew what it was like to fall in love with Jesus.
Lifting my eyes to heaven with my palms open, I uttered hoarsely into the wind, “Everything I am is yours, Father.”
I knew the cost of what I was letting go. It wasn’t going to be easy. Yet, He deserved my everything.
Ashbury’s tender surrender echoed my prayer, “re-align my heart, help me keep the first things first. Let me hear your whisper. God, I hang on every word.”
The surrender of my heart that began that evening under the stars humbly propelled me to surrender my loves daily in the months that followed.
Intermingled peace and relief broke out in cold sweat from my neck. I swirled my toes in the water as tears of indescribable joy overflowed from my heart. God was more real to me than He had ever been. I was standing on a sea of miracles, inhaling spiritual oxygen that I hadn’t tasted in years.
I sought the Lord and He led me to the quiet place. I had found Him in the silence.
My journey to Israel had become more than a summer excursion. It had become a pilgrimage to the birthplace of my roots and the first chapter of a new beginning.
The following summer of 2018, I boarded El Al airlines leading a team of women with Passages back to the land I loved. With the blazing sun beating on my back, I stepped into the Jordan River with faith and confidence to be baptized. The water didn’t feel holy. It was warmer and dirtier than I expected. When my time finally came, I eagerly confirmed my salvation. But I was surprised by the grave question that followed.
“Mikayla, if you die today, do you know where you will spend eternity?”
Time froze as I gazed up past the face of the kind man who held me and into the harsh halo of the sun that shattered the clouds.
The Spirit of the Lord overshadowed the bank of the river. I felt the warmth of my father’s smile as the Holy Spirit lept within the depths of my being.
“Yes,” I said radiantly without a shadow of doubt. “I do.”