Recklessly Abandoning

Recently, I've deemed myself to be in a place of inadequacy. In a, "I must figure this out before I take on anything else." kind of mindset.

By figuring "this" out, I mean my consistent frustrations and misunderstandings of God. Lately, I've been barreling through life in anger toward how I've felt and anger toward the place that I am currently at. In my soul and in my bones I felt God calling me into something different. Into this uncomfortable, yet hopeful place of uncertainty and excitement.

At the beginning, I praised God for his goodness. For his voice whispering to me where to go next, and for the spirit giving me the courage to follow. I was aching to run, to get my bones moving. I was itching to start something, and to start something big.

I have great news though: none of it is looking how I thought it would.

What do I mean by that? Well, I've felt the most unproductive I ever have in my ministry. I've struggled with comparing seasons of my life. I've questioned if I should've even listened, or if I should just return to what I knew. I felt purposeless, I felt alone, and I felt like I was a disappointment.

With all of these feelings, I swept writing under the rug. I deemed myself unworthy of sharing what I didn't even think I'd had anymore. It was almost mind boggling to watch my heart turn from such overflowing joy, to such immense pain and frustration.

There was a solid week where I felt so much hurt toward the Lord, that I turned my face from him. I slugged around on my own two feet, taking my own steps. Let me tell you the truth, that was the suckiest week of my life. And I knew it. I knew deep in my soul I hated being apart from the Lord.

I approached him weary and troubled. Hands open and apologetic.

Safe to say I wept and I was received by the grace of God. Truly held by the blood of Jesus. It was a reminder of God's character and my need for his gentle, loving hand.

But don't let me stop there. This did not end my misunderstandings of why I was here. And honestly, I think I was afraid to think about it and somewhat afraid to ask.

I'd felt completely removed from the community I knew, from the identity I had created for myself in ministry, and I jumped straight into a place of temptation and failure. Just a consistent falling on my face and wondering why I didn't have this huge ministry to fall back on.

I was frustrated I didn't have something to show for my obedience. I was afraid I wasn't living up to the expectations that people had over my life, but even more so my own.

I then sat down and began praying. Walking the Lord through all the things I'd felt.

In my journal I wrote:

It takes a lot in me to sit down and believe you still love me. I’m in a war. My armor was off, my sword hidden, my belt thrown away. All in the wallowing self pity of how broken I am.

My brokenness should drive me into your arms. Instead, I allow it to wrap a rope around me and pull me under.

Tell me, God.

Why would you call me here?

Away from community, from a safe mission, into a place of complete vulnerability. A place of temptation, and a place of failures.

I truly am realizing how weak I am. How little of this life is ME depending on myself. And just how many areas I put a blockade of walls that kept you out.

Yet, I can hear you saying to me right now, “you’re here for freedom”

I feel your whispers that are telling me exactly who I am in you.

And truly in that moment, I felt something stir in me as I was writing all of those things. "You're here for freedom."

I began to think and ask the spirit more questions.

I realized in my heart how much I'd been consumed by the running and doing, and somewhere in the midst of all of that God's voice had become small.

I felt Him urging me to start from scratch. To relearn what it means to hear his voice. I then began reading a book by Natalie Grant called, Finding Your Voice. Ironic, right? A passage that she had wrote felt like the spirit was just screaming at my soul.

"Your voice is glorious.

Your potential is monumental.

You just have to be ready to hear, to learn, to train, to care, to trust in the One who walks on water and brings the dead to life.

It may not be an easy journey.

You may have to face things from your past and even things inside your own heart that are painful and messy.

You may have to be silent for a while.

It will be a sacrifice. But it is one of eternal return.

Your voice is alive.

Your voice matters.

You simply must be still enough. . . for long enough. . . to hear from the One who created your voice, so that when that still, small voice gently whispers for you to go, you'll be ready." (25)

I mean, wow. That's exactly what I'd wrote at the bottom of that page. It was confirmation of the growing in secret that I'd be doing. But it was also reminder of the confidence I first needed to have in the Lord.

I began this season laying out a list of things God might want me to do, preparing a way to hold onto an identity. And then I spent it wallowing in sadness because none of it was what I needed.

Here I am being reminded of God's voice. I'm learning how to embrace it again. I'm remembering how to love His voice more than others. And even so, learning how to love my own even in its silence.

To remember again my identity as a child of God. To be reminded by the spirit just what it means to walk with an attentiveness to God's love and voice.

The quiet refinement process intimidates me. I will be the first to say that. I am all about being busy, staying on my feet, and doing it ALL. I think that's a slight confirmation of how healthy it is for me to rest and know my identity in the silence of my own voice. To know it's equally as valuable when it's soaking in the voice of God instead of continuously exerting something.

---

Its been a couple weeks since I wrote this entry. I never published it because I felt like it wasn't quite finished. I felt like there was more that needed to be shared along with all that I was trying to understand about God. I've had a few weeks to sit on that day, and struggle became more apparent in my life from that day forward.

I began a consistent battle with how I viewed God's character. For about a year prior to making the decision to walk away from comfort in my life, I had been praying for a "step out of the boat moment". I realized that my life was seemingly mimicking pieces of it. I had stepped out in so much faith and trust but I felt my eyes wandering beyond Jesus. They made their way to the chaos rather than the peace of Jesus. And I sunk.

There was a day that felt like Jesus grabbing my arm, lifting me out of the sea and saying to me, "Child, why do you doubt me?" A day that hit close to my heart, reminding me of what I prayed for and the faith Jesus was inviting me into.

I started reading Isaiah 43 and there is a portion where God says to the Israelites a few major things he had done for them. He reminded them of the moments their ancestors continued to sing songs about, like their God splitting the Red Sea for them and sending chariots of fire from heaven. Yet, he follows up with Forget it, I'm a doing a new thing. Do you not perceive it?

Isn't that an interesting concept? It really held weight on my heart as I had read it. I finally understood what God meant. Mostly, because I was experiencing it first hand. God had been gently reminding me that what my life had looked like and the way he had used it was beautiful and for good. Yet, if I kept dwelling on what was, I would miss what God was doing right in front of my face. I pressed more into that. I decided to let go and completely open my hands to what God was doing NOW. I truly believe I am starting to see what a big God He is.

Since this moment, some time has passed. And my life has already looked miraculously different. For the first time, I weighed the cost. I let it rest on my heart, and I asked myself if Jesus was worth it. And by it, I mean everything. As the spirit was stirring in me and revealing God's true character, I decided He was.

I began praying a prayer of release. That I'd go wherever God would take me. I told Him I didn't want to be in a place where whatever I was doing was doable by me, I wanted to be in a complete place of reliance. Trust and overwhelming faith has leaked into every bone in my body.

From here forth, this blog will be a place of reckless abandonment. And I am pretty nervous, yet excited about it.