“Don’t put your trust in walls because walls will only crush you when they fall”

I’ve been sitting here staring at this blank page for about 20 minutes now. 
How is that my brain can just withhold those signals that tell my hands to move; how is it that my heart forms this barrier between honesty and this keyboard whenever it pleases?

God so intended that I would be this stubborn, immovable, set in strength young woman, but let me tell ya: when I’m not using it the way He intended, it’s not as useful as it sounds.

It’s easy to sit in silence
when no one
tells you it’s okay to speak;
and who knows--
maybe that was all
I could have needed
somehow,
someone to tell me
my thoughts made sense
outside of my head;
my words were worthy
of listening ears;
maybe I just needed
someone to tell me
that it was okay to cry for this-
okay to be alive for this,
that maybe I could have
asked for more from this,
or to be separated from it
fully.

Where does all the lost time go? 

How can I feel a peace that surpasses man’s understanding, and a comfort that the world does not know, and still be this cold and indifferent?

How can I forget too often that this is not a systematic matter, and rather a love uncontainable by the boundaries of my own imagination?  A love not silenced by the logic in my promises, or hindered by the most scientific reasoning.

How can I forget that I am urged to remain in faith and hope and love, the greatest being love?  How do I ignore that it is that love that makes this faith real? 

Because all of my pursuits to better know my Lord’s heart are getting nowhere without it.  All of my desire to feel Him fully in this place is cut off without love.  All of my hunger goes unsatisfied, and all of my thirst unquenched because I don’t know how to use love.

Running [and getting nowhere fast]

I’ve been flaking, guys.  Sorry about that.  There’s been so much that I found easier to not deal with in the last few weeks and while I am trying, hesitantly, yet freely, I admit that I’ve been cowering in the corner.  I have (obviously) avoided this place (and all writing in general) because I know it sparks truth and uncovers hurt like I can’t do anywhere else. 

I have avoided reading my Bible the last few days because I’ve been afraid of what I might find there.  I feel like I was knocked two steps backward, and my pride is fighting to keep these words to myself.  But I’m fighting back. 

As “going home” peeked up over the Known and the Comfortable, I began to get a little anxious.  And though God has worked some amazing things in my heart so far, it seems there’s still a lot to break through.  I rest in His power to restore fully.  I have to say that it came all too naturally to run, to avoid feeling altogether, to flee from any sort of conflict that could possibly bear hard questions or open my heart to any kind of grieving or hurt I’ve previously deprived it of.  It just felt right to run.  I didn’t give it a second thought because that would mean thinking of further uncovering my heart where all the wounds are just in open air, and that’s getting a little old these days if I’m being honest. 

It’s wearing-- entirely exhausting.  Being vulnerable hurts.  Everywhere.  And for someone like me (someone it doesn’t come naturally to), it’s like forcing yourself into a pair of jeans that don’t quite fit.  You might get that zipper up and the button through, but let me tell you, walking around for an extended period of time like that is terribly uncomfortable. 

Being back with my family isn’t easy at all.  I’ve finally heard Him reminding me in the last 24 hours: This isn’t who I am.  I hide behind so much, but if He took it all away, I’d still be His.  And such a simple Truth is one I forget much too often. 

I’m still not ready to tell all of me, or all of what I’m going through now.  And truthfully, I don’t know if I’ll ever get close to doing that here.  But I do know that as old as it’s getting, uncovering the wounds is giving them room to breathe, and in that, I know there’s supposed to be healing.  Even if it’s slow. 

I know this isn’t much, and I know it’s vague, and I know I’m holding out on a lot and that I wasn’t supposed to be doing that here.  I don’t really know what to say, or I guess how to say it.  But I can leave with this: in everything that it is, God is filling it up even as I’m trying to hold it all inside of me, mostly because He’s still filling me up. 

Here world: Here's my God

 

"I see His love and mercy washing over all our sin...
I see a generation rising up to take their place with selfless faith...
I see a near revival stirring as we pray and seek,
We're on our knees, we're on our knees. Hosanna."

In Matthew 13, the kingdom of heaven is compared to treasure hidden in a field, or a pearl of great value.  In both instances, the one in search of these great treasures sells everything he has to buy it.

That's how I'm feeling right about now.

When you spend weeks, days, hours with God, He starts to show you things you don't even think you're asking for.  And when you're face to face with such great conviction, harsh and real direction, undeniable Truth, you can't for a second pretend you could even try to disobey.  Like the perfect father He is, He directs me; He tells me how to move. 

You see, when I began blogging about all the ways God was breaking my heart, I truly thought He was simply doing me this favor.  I truly thought He was just helping me out.  Only here I am now, and I'm starting to see that it was only the beginning.  Because there is no limit to God's perfection.  Where He is perfect in saving me, of freeing me of all the things I've been bound by (some, for my whole life), He is also perfect in redeeming the world.  His perfection does not exist merely in the capacity of my own life.  He has perfected righteousness.  He has perfected love.  He has perfected sacrifice.  He has perfected justice.  And as He's emptied me of all the things that were eating me from the inside out, He's filling me with Himself.  I can feel it.

I am just realizing the realness of the fact that I am a part of His plan; He is not a part of mine. 

This isn't about me anymore.  I mean, it was never about me.  But my heart's desire is not about me anymore.  I feel like God is calling this city to wake up.  I feel like God is calling this world to wake up.  I am realizing that He is pulling me to move, to stand, to speak.  He is calling me to use any ounce of boldness or conviction I possess in my soul to show my world who He is. 

Nothing even makes sense anymore.  But everything does.  I think of how it will look, that the "word of the cross is folly" to this campus (1 Corinthians 1:18).   

But I am not ashamed, for I know Whom I have believed and I am convinced that He is able to guard until that Day what has been entrusted to me.  -2 Timothy 1:12

My mind, my heart, my soul- they're set on one thing.  I've never been so consumed by God that I could not think about anything else.  I can just feel Him; I can feel Him calling me, moving me, challenging me to stand up for Him.  I can feel it.  And I can't even see where He's telling me to move, I'm just walking because I trust Him more than I ever have.  I don't even know what He's doing, but I'm giving up my world for Him because I can think of no better way to spend my time but to take up that cross, sell everything I have, and follow Him.  He didn't call me to the "spirit of timidity" I've been hiding behind for so many years, but "of power" (2 Timothy 1:7)-- His spirit, His power.  He has called me to "pursue righteousness, godliness, love, steadfastness, and gentleness" (1 Timothy 6:11).

He does not want me to sit still, to stay here, and I can't anymore.  Not when He's like: HEY.  HEY, YOU.  MOVE.

Everything else is falling away as I'm realizing that change starts with submission.  I used to say what God could and couldn't do.  I used to put Him in that box I talked about; I used to say where He fit.  I used to say what God had the capability of achieving.  I used to think money could stop Him, or inadequate resources, or inadequate people, but then I realized the world can't stop God.  The only thing He needs is adequate submission, adequate obedience, from adequate faith- from adequate love. 

I used to believe this could possibly be just about me and what I could do with Him.  And when I would think further into that, I would realize that I'm just one person; I'm just some girl in some college in some part of the world.  What am I supposed to do?  The answer: nothing.  Nothing at all.  Stop trying.  Let Him do. If God wanted an army, He'd call an army.  But He's calling me.  So He's going to use me, despite my many inadequacies, because I love Him.  And because He knows just how much that is.  And I have faith, like I've never possessed before now, that He is going to provide the other appendages to this body, to His body, for me to work alongside. 

This isn't about me, about what I'm doing, or these pretty words I search my most extended vocabulary for.  This is about God's glory, guys.  This is about the saving He is about to do.  This is about the reviving of dead faith, dead hearts, He is about to perform.  This is about how He doesn't have a limit of miracles to which He is contained.  This is about how He's told me He has a plan and nothing in this world, in this school, in our unbelief is going to stop Him now. 

So this is what fervency is about. 

For consider your calling, brothers: not many of you were wise according to worldly standards, not many were powerful, not many were of noble birth.  But God chose what is foolish in the world to shame the wise; God chose what is weak in the world to shame the strong.  - 1 Corinthians 1:26-27

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I am His.

My spirit's hurt, but it's not broken.  My heart- it aches, but it's not empty.  Not for this, not this time.

I'm so excited to move from here; I praise my God, my Savior, my King, my Love, my Heart, my Joy, my Purpose, my Worth, my Truth, and my Comfort the things- the possessions, the feelings, the love not rooted in Him- that He is freeing me of.  I praise Him the room He is making in my heart for more of Him.  I praise Him the chains that He is shedding from my wrists, the straps that I've been bound by- they're being torn.

This isn't easy.  It's never been easy.  And that's where He works.  That's where He reveals to me who He is more clearly.  I say that in full confidence, of His strength.  Because I didn't know it before, but I'm so sure of it now. 

 

        I GAINED it so,
        By climbing slow,
By catching at the twigs that grow
Between the bliss and me.
        It hung so high,
        As well the sky
        Attempt by strategy.

I said I gained it,---
        This was all.
Look, how I clutch it,
        Lest it fall,
And I a pauper go;
Unfitted by an instant's grace
For the contended beggar's face
I wore an hour ago.
- Emily Dickinson

"And when I fall, I fall in You"

 

"[People like to pretend that in our current struggle, it can't get worse because Paul says that God does not throw struggles for us to bear that surpass our ability to handle them.]  That's not true; it can always get worse."

I put that in quoted brackets because the wording is mine, but the thought was not. 

My sister gave me some derivation of that (thanks Sis).  And how true I am finding it is.  We struggle and we hurt and it's hard, but His promise isn't to only give us a limited amount of difficulty to our lives-- His promise is to give us strength to see them (the struggles) through, a "way of escape" found through full trust in His deliverance.

No temptation has overtaken you that is not common to man.  God is faithful, and He will not let you be tempted beyond your ability, but with the temptation He will also provide way of escape, that you may be able to endure it. - 1 Corinthians 10:13

I read through some of Matthew today.  It was strange;  I was sitting in my Anthropology class and my professor was talking about laborers, and carpenters, and I couldn't wait to get out because I needed to open up my Bible.  When he dismissed us, I went straight to Memorial Union and settled into a comfy chair to hear what God had to say.  Matthew was the book I thought of-- I'm not exactly sure why, other than wanting to read about the work Jesus did while he was walking on earth. 

This is what He told me in the time I spent with Him:

Seek first the kingdom of Heaven.

When you pray, pray that My will be done.

Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for I will satisfy them. 

Faith is all I'm asking for, but I ask for it wholly.

This week has been a big week of prayer for us at the Zou.  The ministries here have joined to focus on the power of prayer to our God that connects to us individually, our God that works for us and not against us, our God that hears, and listens, our God that has the strength to move this school in ways we cannot imagine.  We have a common meeting area in a church on campus that's been open for the last seven days, 24 hours a day, for us to go in and pray together (or separately).  Last night, I went in with a few girls from Crusade and we prayed together, and I can honestly say that it was the best communication I've had with Him... maybe ever. 

He's been showing me more about patience and obedience in my growth than I've ever cared to ask Him for before now.  He's showing what it means to be faithful and trusting in the most difficult times to give up my fight for control, when things are so hard that I can't understand what He's doing.  He's showing me what it means to be blessed through His infinite and unconditional love for me, His loving desire to show Himself to me more fully, the ways He works for me and not against me, and how every single way I embrace Him fulfills His will for my life.

And when I read in Matthew today the way Jesus shows us how to pray (because there is no desire we have that God does not already know), prayer to God took on a whole new meaning.  That prayer he gave us looked different than it ever has to me.  Because I'm beginning to see what surrendering to His will really looks like.  I'm beginning to feel, not simply know, the Truth in the fact that nothing is greater than my God that is for me, than His plans that are for me, than His love that is for me. 

Rejoice in the Lord always; again I say, Rejoice.  Let your reasonableness be known to everyone.  The Lord is at hand; do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God.  And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.
- Philippians 4:4-7

The words don't start until about 1:40 or so.  It's worth the wait though. (: