Take Flight. Breathe In. Crush Fear.

I'm really good at running.

I'm exceptional at sprinting, actually. Away from hurt. Away from potential heartache. Away from frustration and away from misfortune. I flee from pain and I search for bliss. Not joy, mind you, but bliss; the encasing, short-lived, euphoric state of mind where no hurt can find you... and generally, I'm apt to find an avenue into that place of rapture. But then that feeling of ecstasy evaporates, and I'm left to abscond again, growing farther and farther away from myself as I try to escape the bitter reality that life sometimes is.

This week, I wanted to run. At some points, everything inside of me was screaming at me to take flight--to turn to the beach, to let my legs pump and my breath flow and the adrenaline carry me to a place of bliss. My mind wanted to shut down, to stop caring about what was happening around me, to enter that place inside of me that is pure imagination, where I can construct and breathe life into something around me that seems safe. But in all reality, I can't do that. I can't leave.

That's something I've learned working here; I can't run. I can't just pick up and check out of what's happening at the moment. For one, what is happening here--however intense, however chaotic--it's happening under Jesus' name. He encompasses every move here, whether it brings glory to Him or not. He can't help it, His presence just automatically permeates everything. All that is going on isn't necessarily from Him, but He is always encasing every situation, and that which is evil and disgusting is shown for what it really is in a heartbeat. The deception game doesn't work too well here. But then, I'm getting ahead of myself.

This week has been draining. Every day has been a constant battle for truth and healing. It's been amazingly breathtaking. He has been amazingly breathtaking. He has propelled us as staff members forward through a web of deceit and hurt and given us ears and eyes to hear and see the truth as lies unfold before us. He has given us strength to wake up every morning, ready for a new day. And He has taught me that it's okay to face pain head-on. Granted, it's not my pain that I'm facing, but He has still given me a will to fight for His children, a passion to see freedom break through the hurt and the confusion that so easily entangles. This past week has been full of a pain and a confusion that I've never had to face before. I've never dealt with the circumstances that we're in at the moment. I've never walked through some of these things with people. In essence--I have no idea what I'm doing, or how I'm going to do this.

But then...that's the beauty of it, isn't it? Because when I end...that's where Jesus really begins to work. Where the Father floods His grace on me and those around. When the Spirit is allowed to completely flow through me and wreck my heart for Him, and make me thirst for more of Him in my depravity. And so I stop running. I slow down... I take a deep breath. The adrenaline drains and I begin to feel the exhaustion steal in. My heart rate slows and my eyes grow heavy, my limbs almost too weary to propel myself along...and suddenly, the hair on my arms stands up. 

I feel a burst of energy come from thin air, crashing into me and taking my breath away, even as it gives me the strength to keep gasping for the oxygen my body so eagerly craves. My muscles start to strengthen, seemingly of their own accord. I suddenly have the will to fight, the will to keep walking in the direction I was headed in the first place--away from bliss, into this messy, painful, hard, beautiful, crushing lifestyle called missions, where some days you don't get to rest, some nights you're pulled from your sleep and you can feel the enemy crushing down on you, you can see dark shadows in the room trying to oppress you, and all you can do is pray and pray in earnest faith, knowing that these dark beings have no power over you if you can just open your mouth to speak His name... where sometimes you're jerked from your dreams by a knock on the door, and suddenly you're throwing on clothing to rush into some unknown emotional or mental territory with one of the students.

But in those moments I realize that this is really what I love. I wouldn't change this. Even when I'm waking up to a knock on my door at 1am. Even when I'm sitting on the end of the dock crying in anguish for the hurting souls gathered on this base. I wouldn't change any of the pain, or the hurt, because along with it comes great growth, and great joy, and an even greater sense of His presence and Spirit. Because even though, yes, this is hard...I know that it is fully worth it. Every second of it. All the tears, all the laughter, all the silly moments I have with those around, all the sad hugs shared, all the smiles and wry looks given and sarcasm and dancing and singing and twirling together.

I suppose the appropriate thing to say is that I have previously been fantastic at running away. But Jesus is teaching me to saunter, to savor the moment--whether filled with sorrow or joy--and to take it one step at a time, letting all the hard moments be erased with every laugh, with every smile that shows itself.

And so I stop sprinting. I slow down...I take a deep breath. And I let His touch sear like a million wildfires inside of my soul.

I trust...Sometimes.

I trust.

I trust the chair I'm sitting in to hold me. 

I trust the floor I walk on to carry my weight.

I trust the water I drink and the food I consume to keep me alive.

But do I trust God?

I have a hard time trusting that He will take care of me. And so today, I'm taking a step of faith. I had a lengthy conversation with Him this morning about my lack of funds, and I kept hearing Him say, 

"Trust me." Not a suggestion. Not a casual, "Hey, Em, maybe you should trust me a little more. Think you can do that?" But a sincere, peace-filled, I-Know-What-I'm-Doing statement. 

"Trust me." And so I am. I'm trusting that He will provide the money I need to pay staff fees/visa renewal, and general living costs. I asked Him this morning if He would provide just enough, and heard Him replying to me;

"How much do you want?"

Well, God. I need enough for staff fees. It'd be nice to pay off a few months in advance so I don't need to worry about it... but I'll take what you give me.

"No, that wasn't my question, Em. How much do you want?"

Um. I need enough to pay for my visa renewal every month, so $150 would last me for 6 months. Plus staff fees to pay for a few months out. And staff fees are $200 a month... so, I don't know, maybe about $950 would be generous.

"Baby Girl, my Wild One, whom I've chosen, how much money do you want Me to provide?"

I wrestled with His question for quite awhile, and it finally hit me--He wants to provide more than I need. He wants to give me above and beyond that which I ask for. So I'm praying in $8000. I don't know where it will come from, or how it will come, or how long it will take to get, but I believe that He can provide. I believe He has the means to support me while I'm here. This was His idea in the first place, and I believe that as long as I am obedient, He will provide. I do need to take action as well and send support letters out, but that's in the process. I'm trusting Him.

Jesus, I want $8000. I realize that some may think that's greedy, or too much. But it's not. You know what I need it for, what I will use it for, who I will bless with bits a pieces of it. I trust You to provide. 

I trust.

Dead Men Don't Care How They Feel.

You know that feeling in the pit of your stomach when you've been fasting for a few days (or just haven't eaten for quite a while)? When your stomach is contracting and seems to be screaming for food, for something to fill the emptiness, something to sink into it and fill it up?

And when you get to that point--the point of gnawing, almost agonizing hunger--it's almost all you can do at points to keep going. You just want something to eat.

Then you see it. A donut, sitting on a plate, perfectly glazed and beautiful and sweet and oh so worth it! You take a few steps towards it. But wait... you're fasting. You can't have it yet. Your stomach is begging, "Please! I need it. Please... it's all I want." But your mind knows that there needs to be a shift in something before the fast can end. There needs to be an action or a result before you can end your period of hunger.

Have you ever thought about how Jesus feels when we're wandering from Him? His heart is full of a burning, endless passion for us. I imagine that when we stray, when we decide to turn our backs to Him, His pain in hunger for our presence is much like that of the example above. Everything in Him cries to just take us, but He knows that that's not how it can be. It doesn't work like that. There has to be a shift first; we have to choose to turn and acknowledge Him first. He won't force us down, He will simply wait and see what we choose. But then, it isn't so simple, is it? His heart still longs for us, He craves our presence with the very essence of His being.

I've been learning the process of complete abandon to Him. Staffing with YWAM as a DTS staff member, among having other responsibilities, has been one of the most challenging journeys I've embarked on. But every single moment of victory and triumph over then enemy trumps the frustration and chaos of the harder moments. There have been so many changes here in the past week; laced with miscommunication, tragedy, joy, freedom, and subtle yet powerful shifts in the spiritual and physical realms. 

Along with the rest of the staff, I've been walking through freedom and denial with the students; each one with an individual story, a different thought process, a unique passion. Being in a position where I am constantly pouring God's truth and heart into them is a delicate yet exhilarating place to be. When the Father gives me words to speak or actions to take, I am responsible to say or take those actions... That's a lot of responsibility. But then again, it all comes down to abandoning myself to Him. There's been so many opportunities to speak His love over the students, and there have honestly been times where I haven't wanted to be His mouthpiece. Honestly though--I'm not here for me. I'm not here to do what I want to do, in my time, on my terms. 

There's an amazing thing happening here--God's been having some incredible moments of freedom within these students, and I've been so privileged to be a part of this. I'm learning every day, in every moment, to abandon every single part of me to the Father. I'm not perfect; I don't always follow His instruction, I'm not the most refined in speech or conduct, but I am trying to be closer to Him. I'm learning, I'm asking questions, I'm wanting to be closer to His heart in every way. And I think that maybe I'm getting a tad closer. Maybe. 

I've been challenged by a quote I found while researching for a project this past week:

Are you prepared to let God take you into total oneness with Himself, paying no more attention to what you call the great things of life? Are you prepared to surrender totally and let go?  -OswaldChambers

I want this.

I want to be completely, totally, irrevocably His. My heart burns for His presence, and I want to crave Him in such a way as I described above in the donut illustration. I want to want Him as badly as He wants and calls for me. I pray for that. It'd be a crazy experience... but then again, His love is crazy for me, so why shouldn't my love for Him be equally as mad?

Join me as I pray for more of a passion for Him. I ask that you'd partner with me in prayer, and pray over the lives of these students, of the staff, as we continue to walk out this path that He's placed us on. Pray that we as staff are able to communicate His love in a way that outlines His enduring passion for the students. Because really, if He wants me that bad... He wants them even more. And I can't wait for them to realize that,

I want to walk as one who is dead; one who doesn't care what happens to them; one whose feelings don't steer everything they do, but they walk out what they're called to do. I want to have a heart for others like Jesus had. Not a cheap imitation or a counterfeit worthy only to pawn off onto others, but the real thing. Genuine. 

This is my heart: to be completely abandoned to Him, to let Him take me into total oneness with Himself.

I want to walk as the dead. Because dead men don't care how they feel. They care only of the will and heart of the Master.