The Sky Is Clearing

Remember last time when I sounded a little bit confused about how all the pieces of life fit together?

Yeah, I still don't get it all.

At the same time, like clouds parting to reveal a beautiful starry night, some of my confusion has blown away and I may have caught a glimpse of the big picture.

For those of you who don't know me well, I'm a girl from a small mid-west town who grew up in a little Baptist church. I was homeschooled, spent many an hour painstakingly practicing piano and harp (Dear Dad and Mom ... thank you for all the patience you had with my musical frustrations!), and from a very young age I was a storyteller.

When I was a little kid, my dad graciously typed as I dictated a play script that I now see is laughably bad. I made up stories for my friends and brother as we carpooled to AWANA. When I learned how to use the computer for myself I wrote a "book" about my friends that my dad edited, printed, and bound. At the age of twelve I convinced friends to join me in writing a magazine ... an effort that extended through the end of high school and involved not only a magazine but also a blog and a website of our own.

Books happened too. I plotted stories that illustrated, in the fiction realm, the grace of God as I knew it from my own life.

Then college happened. I went to a well-reputed Christian college far, far away from everyone I knew. Suddenly my life was busier and more demanding than I'd ever known. As I looked around at all the confident, unfamiliar faces that surrounded me, it seemed that I would never be able to survive that place. I couldn't handle college as calmly as them. I couldn't coordinate all the demands on my time. It felt like I couldn't even pray. My pleas to God seemed to bounce of the unfeeling walls of that impersonal place and come right back at me.

I didn't stay long enough to find out if it would get better.

That's about the time I stopped writing. My confusion and sense of failure sapped all the energy that had gone into my stories. If I wrote about my poor, disillusioned character Jordan, I was afraid that I would become mired down in her pain and mine. So I put her aside, and tried to take care of myself.

I'm now in my last semester of college in a different place, a different major. I'm surrounded by amazing people and I've had incredible friends and adventures. But I still hesitate to sit back down and fill blank pages with the stories that used to be so vivid in my imagination.

What ever happened to my sense that writing was God's will for my life, part of His purpose? It once seemed that He had built it into me as an integral part of who I was. After four years without it, I began to doubt everything I knew about what God had for me.

Maybe writing was just a season ... my desires have shifted to serving God on rivers and mountains. Rather than spending my time sitting on a chair and staring at a screen, I'd rather hike to a cliff and watch stars.

But ... God doesn't waste things.

People, experiences, moments, seasons ... they have a purpose in His plan.

So as the fog clears in my mind, I am beginning to wonder ... what if my new desires and joys are not an attack on who I used to be but rather a complement to it?

The adventures that call me could feed and fuel the words I write. In the same way, the time I spend in reflection as I write can stretch and grow my heart to further enjoy life and serve God in all I do.

I don't know if I'll write books again. Probably. But whether God has books or blogs or whatever for me, I know that He has purposes in Who He is making me.

And while I can't see the whole picture, it's a beautiful view, and I am growing in my love of the One Who created it.

Summer-y

People ask me about my summer.

There’s no easy way to communicate what goes through my mind when I think about the last few months. In moments, a vivid, disjointed slideshow of memories plays out in my head. I see rapids, cliffs, and familiar smiles. My heart struggles to prioritize stories. After all, what was really the most important? The fact that I finally learned the munter mule knot for rappelling or the story of the evening my roomie and I drove to the top of the mountain and we felt like we were on top of the world? Should I describe what I know of reading water for rafting, or would people be more interested in hearing about the nights when my friends and I marveled as the sky was lit by a brilliant moon, lightening, and shooting stars?

Fears surface as I try to explain.

I fear the fact that no one can ever really understand what this summer was like unless he or she was there. I want to share these days with the family and friends I love. But since I can’t sync memories and emotions with others (which, if it could be controlled, would be SUPER COOL), I have to realize that words and pictures will have to suffice to give them the faintest sense of what my life was like. Which saddens me, because I feel as if there is a part of myself that I want to show them, but I don’t have the right tools. I feel thwarted, blocked at the pass, and very lonely for the people who lived this incredible season with me.

The fact that there is no thread that ties the memories together—no plot, no way to explain how everything fits and what everything was driving towards—makes me uneasy as to the purpose of all that I did.

It seems as if I should be able to look at the ministry aspect of my job and say, “Well, it was all for a purpose, because I shared awesome devos and I was able to encourage people….” and all the other things we maybe hope for when we step into a new area of service.

I wish I could summarize the adventure side of my job by saying, “I conquered all my fears! And I was good at everything! I got way better at interacting with people, and talking to strangers is no longer awkward!”

Well. It appears perhaps my hopes were a little too high. J

I’m coming to peace with the fact that the story is in pieces—just like a novel, the facets of our lives don’t always make sense until the true end of the story. Sometimes not even then. The song Farther Along by Josh Garrels has helped me with that.

Well, this post is getting long. Time to wrap up.

For sake of making sense of everything, I’ll risk attempting a brief summary of my memories here.

My job was FANTASTIC. I had a lot of fears going into the summer. Heights weren’t my favorite thing. I don’t love the dark or tight spaces. But I knew I wanted to grow, and I did. I’ve rappelled, caved, facilitated high ropes, trained quite a bit on the New River, and more. The fears aren’t gone, but I’m learning to live beyond them. Besides the adventure skills I gained, I had the chance to share a couple devotions with guests, and while I still have work to do in that area, I’m thankful that God has given me this opportunity to serve Him. It brings me joy to remember the moments when God’s hand at work was so clear in my life or another guide’s.

What surprises me is that many of my most vivid memories aren’t from the job. My heart longs to go back to hikes with guides, to relaxing in my hammock, going out for coffee, and laughing at the craziest things because I and the people I worked with just enjoyed being together.

And I choose to comfort my longings with the fact that no matter where I am or who is with me, there is One with me Who was there all summer long. God knows each of my memories better than I do. He knows exactly how I felt each day—that crazy blend of fear and courage, strength and weakness, incredible happiness and occasional woundedness. I don’t have to try to explain to Him and have it fall short.

So that’s it. That’s the only way I can explain right now.

It was amazing.

Waiting at a Rappel Site

Switchback

From our vantage point on the earth, life seems like a good old West Virginia backroad--full of switchbacks we can't see around. Sometimes we wonder if we'll make it around the next bend, and the turn may be so sharp that we have no idea what is around the bend.

This summer my life has taken another turn that I didn't expect at all even a year ago. And again, like many WV roads, the view beyond the bend is stunning.

The past six summers I've been work staff or cook at a Baptist camp near my home. This summer, I'm an adventure guide in West Virginia. I'm training as a whitewater rafting guide, and I'm helping facilitate rappelling, caving, high ropes, etc. All with a focus on using adventure to teach about God.

I expected stress this summer. Some moments are that way.

I expected responsibility. Yep. It's here.

I expected to like it once I got used to it. And I do.

More than I expected.

I've learned so much these last few weeks. My brain is bursting with knots, whitewater routes, cave landmarks, rescue methods, and more. I want to share it all, but honestly I think it would be kind of boring to people who aren't here in the middle of it.

More than anything, I just want to praise God for how good He is. I see His power all around me in the New River Gorge as I see the massive beauty He created. I remember it when I hear caving guests singing praises that echo off the cave walls. I rejoice in His goodness when all goes well, and I rely on Him for my sufficiency when I don't feel like I'm enough.

And I'm so thankful that He let me turn this corner and enter this incredible adventure.

Hamster Wheel

Sometimes life feels a bit like a hamster wheel.

God teaches me something once. I forget. He teaches me again. I forget again. I'm running in circles. Running in place.

Maybe that's part of the reason I have been kind of quiet here for a while. I haven't had anything witty or poignant or insightful to say. What I've been learning is what I've already known.

Christ must be the focus of my life.

This life is just so incredibly distracting. I go to Bible college to learn how to serve God better. And while I'm there I learn to love the state where I'm living, I take on new hobbies, new friends, and suddenly all these side attractions--these perks God has allowed in my service to Him--become the main thing in my mind. I start seeking to please my friends before my God. I want to learn more about my new hobbies more than I want to study God's Word. I look for new scenery rather than new people to serve.

I've been encouraged by Francis Chan's book Crazy Love lately. I haven't finished it yet, but as I sit and read, I've realized that the life I'm living is only a pale reflection of what true Christian living is supposed to be. Christianity was never meant to be something I do or one label among many. It is to be my entire identity and purpose.

It's daunting. And the truth is, I can't do it on my own.

I'm just thankful that as I seek Him, the God I serve remodels my life into what He desires.

"Being confident of this very thing, that he which hath begun a good work in you will perform it until the day of Jesus Christ" (Philippians 1:6).

So what's to be said about that hamster wheel? Am I really running in place?

Sometimes. But only when I'm running in my own strength.

There is victory in Christ.

Only in Christ.

Just Like Eve

How easily we miss the big picture.

How quickly it destroys us, and it hurts the heart of the God we say we love.

I've been reading And the Bride Wore White by Dannah Gresh for a class, and one chapter talked a lot about the biblical parable of the pearl of great price. Gresh emphasized the devotion needed to give up every lesser thing to obtain the pearl, the greatest thing.

I began to think of lesser things in my life. Ironically, though I knew they were lesser, they were some of the things that were most important to me.

To my shame, I began to mentally argue with God.

"They aren't bad things!"

"Why would you ask me to give that up or re-evaluate it?"

Can you see the point I missed? Think about it! What did I miss?

In surrendering the things I love to God, He gives me something better. Something beyond anything I have. In surrendering my sin, He gives me salvation. When I surrender my desires and plans, He gives me a life that honors Him and brings me joy and fulfillment.

I'm no different than Eve. She lived in a garden with all the wonderful things she could ever need, she had a perfect relationship with her husband, and she had an unbroken relationship with God Himself. Yet instead of being thankful and content with all she had, she became fixated with the one thing she was not allowed to have. She decided God wasn't right to keep it from her. She decided she was wise enough to make her own choice and disobey God.

In Eve's story I see myself. I run to trees God has told me to avoid and ask, "Why not this tree?"

I can imagine a response from the Lord. "Why that dangerous tree when I have given you so many good trees to enjoy?"

When I choose the forbidden over the gift, I take marred happiness instead of joy.

I choose temporary pleasure over lasting fulfillment.

I chase destruction and evade restoration.

I cling to wounds and refuse healing.

Don't mistake my meaning. I'm not suggesting that if I give God all my money, He'll give me more. That's not the kind of blessings I'm talking about at all here. I'm just making one statement about God's goodness.

God gives to His children above and beyond anything He takes.

It Dies Today

I see it fading. My heart is torn between disappointment and glad acceptance.

A selfish dream of my heart fades. Its absence confuses me. It has been a part of me so long that I almost can't imagine myself without it.

I will never be strong.

How many times have I fought and worked to be a strong person? At my core, I wanted to be the girl who could take every hit and still get back up. I thought I could find enough fight in me to keep myself going. I shouldn't need anyone. I shouldn't ever be overwhelmed or past my abilities. I craved control.

And I can't have it.

Because I am weak. I read God's Word and I see it. I'm a sinner (Romans 8:28) who doesn't even understand the mess of her own heart (Jeremiah 17:9). Jesus's statement in the garden of Gethsemane seems to describe me: "The spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak" (Matthew 26:41). I see these truths in my life. My failures and sins clearly demonstrate that I am unable to overcome.

What good is a weak person, one who is saved but still unable to handle her own life?

Apparently ... that's just the person God tends to use.

"For ye see your calling, brethren, how that not many wise men after the flesh, not many mighty, not many noble, are called: But God hath chosen the foolish things of the world to confound the wise; and God hath chosen the weak things of the world to confound the things which are mighty; And base things of the world, and things which are despised, hath God chosen, yea, and things which are not, to bring to nought things that are: That no flesh should glory in his presence" (1 Corinthians 1:26-29).

Why is weakness such fertile ground for God to work? Because it shows that He is the One doing the work. And He does the work.

"And he said unto me, My grace is sufficient for thee: for my strength is made perfect in weakness. Most gladly therefore will I rather glory in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me. Therefore I take pleasure in infirmities, in reproaches, in necessities, in persecutions, in distresses for Christ's sake: for when I am weak, then am I strong" (2 Corinthians 12:9-10).

My own strength is utterly insufficient. When I try to rely on myself, I only end up disappointing myself, others, and God.

But when I allow Him to work through me, then I can obey every command He gives.

So in the end, I will never be strong.

But I will have strength.

It just won't be mine.

What Life Is

Without ever meaning to, I began to believe a lie.

I believed that my life consisted of the little moments. Which sounds good, right? It sounds like a popular quote, something you'd see on a plaque or on pintrest. And it seemed to fit with my experience. The things I tend to cherish the most are hikes with friends, visiting a favorite coffee shop, or learning a new skill. Identifiable points in time that add up to a happy "life."

I believed life was something I was supposed to build and compile. Like a garden, I was supposed to plant the good things and weed out the unhappiness and struggles.

I don't think I fully realized what I believed and how I was acting. But things began to make more sense as I read God's Word.

My life is not here.

"If ye then be risen with Christ, seek those things which are above, where Christ sitteth on the right hand of God. Set your affection on things above, not on things on the earth. For ye are dead, and your life is hid with Christ in God. When Christ, who is our life, shall appear, then shall ye also appear with him in glory. ^"

 Colossians 3:1-3

It made me pause when I read it. My life is hid? It's with Christ? Then another passage came to mind.

"And this is life eternal, that they might know thee the only true God, and Jesus Christ, whom thou hast sent."

John 17:3

Again, this passage describes life as something not on this earth. While I do have a "life" here on earth in one sense, in the truest sense my life is my relationship with God. He is my sustainer and fulfiller. He is the One Who gives me breath, existence, and purpose.

With this understanding, I'm finding that the only way to evaluate life is to measure the depth of my walk with God. If I'm having the happiest earthly life--full of all the things I love--but I'm not praying, reading the Bible, walking with God, then I'm not living much of a life. If on the other hand things aren't going well--if I struggle financially or I fall short of my goals or I fail in a career--but I'm close to God, then my life is a full one.

As hard as it is, in each joy or struggle of my earthly life, I have to remember that this is not my life.

My life is hid with Christ in God.