Consider a Jealous God

My heart cries out for more today. It screams for something deeper; something more vivid and alive. Something that I can grasp onto and hold, take it in as if it's my very own breath that I'm embracing. Something--no, Someone--that will hold me and keep me and birth in me a wild and abundant and lovely passion and burning for life.

I have been home in Washington for five weeks now. I left YWAM Destination Paradise in Belize five weeks ago with a heavy and faltering heart. I left with an angry and despairing and hurting spirit. I left with a sense of bitterness and frustration; towards others, but mostly focused towards myself.

I was reading in Hebrews 12 a few days ago and verse 3 kept playing over and over in my mind.

"For consider Him who endured such hostility from sinners against Himself, 

lest you become weary and discouraged in your souls."

When I left DP, I was weary, discouraged. I hadn't been considering God and His passions and heart for me, and I fell into a state of thinking that was so inwardly focused that I couldn't see what He was speaking over me. Since being home, I have found that peace again. I have found the rest in Him that I have so desperately been craving, discovered once more the excitement and intimacy with my Father. He has been speaking into me life and color, breathing into my weary soul and reviving the joy within that is so natural for me. My heart is still in a process of healing, of finding a place where I can communicate healthily with those whom I have hurt and who have hurt me, but within this process I am learning to focus on God's peace and humble myself before Him daily, hourly, in every moment, because according to Deuteronomy 4:24;

"...the Lord your God is a consuming fire, a jealous God."

and

"Therefore, since we are receiving a kingdom that cannot be shaken,
let us be thankful, and so worship God with reverence and awe,
for our God is a consuming fire." (Hebrews 12:28-29)

My God is a jealous God. He is a God thirsty for my love, hungering to get to know me better and craving my company. Who am I to deny Him His glory? It was foolish of me to step into sin and convince myself that He wasn't watching, that I could repent later. It would be foolish for me to run from that. Instead, I'm walking into His presence with a sense of utter peace and joy, because His grace and His love is bigger and more passionate than I could ever imagine. He is reining me in and teaching and growing and stretching me, and as this happens His restoration and His will for me encompasses me and burns in my heart; calling me and prodding me ever towards His feet, towards the throne, towards His beauty.

Eruption.

I forget that this life is temporary. I settle into patterns and thought-processes and embed in myself a desire and a drive that line up with the idea that this moment in time is all that there is...that my actions and thoughts and words won't affect people. That I can do or say or think anything I want and it won't go further than me and my mind and my immediate surroundings.

How wrong I am to assume. I've been living out this pattern of supposition for the past six months, and am barely on the brink of realizing what it means to push outside of myself in certain areas. This month has been wild. It's been full of frustration, of confusion, of freedoms and of revelations. One of the joys (and curses) of living in community is that most of your life is on display for all to see. And when you mess up--when you make a wrong decision or aren't careful about guarding your heart and mind--everyone knows. It's equivalent to standing center-stage at a concert and knowing that every eye is on you, knowing that if you miss a single note while singing or hit the wrong chord, someone will always know. There are no secrets when you're standing center stage.

I recently made some poor decisions within the relationships that I've built, and I haven't realized until this past week just how badly those decisions affected the entire community. My actions and decisions hurt those around me, especially the girls within my small group and the women within the staff. I broke the trust that had been built between us and I refused to acknowledge it. I lied to myself, convinced myself that I wasn't hurting anyone, justified my actions by telling myself that I was following my heart. None of those lies held, however. The mitigation of my actions within my own mind deteriorated as I looked into the eyes of those that I've hurt, heard their words as they expressed their frustration and anger, felt their pain radiating from them as they asked the tortured questions; "Why was I not good enough for you?" 

I can't undo what's happened. I can't take back the ache that I've caused in the lives of those around me. I can't take away from the fact that I did mess up. I won't minimize the pain of the circumstances; my own heart has been broken throughout this process. We had a meeting involving the entire staff and student body last week, and I had the opportunity to own my shit in front of everyone. I splayed myself out and took the fall that I knew had been coming, and as I looked around the room, I felt a shattering inside of me. Out of 30+ people, I could count on one hand those who would look me in the eye. I felt the anger and betrayal emanating within the room and the walls within my own heart crumbled. I will not deny my actions, but I can and will be proactive with where I presently am. I will walk forward and continue to move, continue to be open and vulnerable, making a conscious effort every day to be one hundred percent authentic in my words and actions as I converse with others. I will choose to walk in light when I've been walking in darkness. I will choose to be filled with integrity and an honesty that transcends that which I have been walking in.

Relationships are building again, trust is being reconstructed, and I find myself being able to truly smile within the past few days. Joy is something that I have to embrace daily, but the beauty of this entire situation is that it's a story of redemption. It's a story of the fascinating and wonderful and breathtakingly passionate love that my Father has for me and for those wrapped up in this.

I'm still processing and will continue to process and write, because this is just the beginning of the journey, and He is just furthering His work to perfect me. I will take heart in the fact that He has overcome the world (John 16:33) and that He will continue to refine me in the process. In everything, I will not forget that He has been broken so that I may be shaped into some creature of beauty and wholeness. I choose to embrace Him and to walk forward in the freedom that He continues to so gracefully provide; head held high and proceeding humbly before Him.

Climb.

I admit, I've been procrastinating. I've been locking myself away and reading, and watching movies, and not writing. I've been preoccupied with moving through the days until the next school starts, rationalizing that once those days hit, I'll be doing something worthwhile. Guess what?

Today is worthwhile.

Today is worth living.

And I forgot that.

I forgot that I am here for a purpose; and every single day that I don't chase after that purpose, I'm wasting time. My purpose here is to know Jesus and to proclaim Him and His love and His majesty and wonder over everything I come in contact with. So, today I decided to do things differently. I spent the entire morning with Jesus. Not making up for lost time, because I can't get that time back, but making a conscious effort to restore my relationship with Him. I've been on a bit of a roller coaster since being in Belize; during the last school I was actively pursuing God, wandering in His wake. It was amazing, until I let my guard down. And then I started to become apathetic about it, and I didn't wake up for Him in the morning. I woke up for me...I woke up so I could walk through another day. I let things like homesickness and doubt distract me from His ever-waving arms. I let Him become something that was comfortable and worn, something that I put on when I want to feel warm and cozy, much like my old sweatpants.

I was reading this morning, and the book I was reading was talking about the God of Ezekiel. Have you ever read the book of Ezekiel? It's all about a jealous God. A God who doesn't stand up and let people get away with wickedness. It is about a fierce, warrior God who loves His people so much, He won't watch them go to ruin. He will let them take the consequences for their actions, though.

Want to know what crossed my mind this morning? God's not a pair of old, worn out sweatpants. God is a God of love, terrible and passionate love that will stop at no bounds. He is a God of fire and water, a God of justice and of mercy. A gentle God. An intense God. A lover God. A wild, and powerful, and relentless God. A holy God.

And I completely lost sight of that. Needless to say, I was humbled by this revelation, and I sat with Him talking and reading more about His incredible nature, listening to Him as He poured His devotion over me.

It's been hard for me recently. I'm a part of a school that disciples young people to go into life and become leaders in faith, leaders in ministry, leaders in integrity. We are now moving into a time where we will have 4 schools per year, and I have the wonderful privilege of staffing here. That means that I am a girls small group leader--I mentor and counsel and pray over and live for my girls as they are here. Last school, there were 9 girls in my group, and I was absolutely in rapture with the love that God gave me for them. I got to sit with them and hear their stories; stories of pain, of humiliation, of self-hurt and of abuse. I got to counsel them, to walk with them through memories and feelings and their own tortured thoughts, speaking God's light and life into them as we went.

I had the chance to chase after them as they bolted to the end of the dock and fell onto their knees, sobbing in the sheer pain of their circumstances. I had the freedom to pull them into my arms and hold them, tears slipping down my own face as I prayed for words, and if none came, I sat with them in silence, letting them cry it out as I held them, as Jesus held both of us in His presence.

And when those young women sat before me at the end of the school and I spoke to them about how they had impacted me, about how I had seen the change in them as they grew closer to God, I was so proud, so privileged to see them grin, their eyes glowing as they walked away with their heads held high in trust of the Father, in trust of His plan for them, in a new mindset of self-esteem and love.

I played a piece in a wild, incredible transformation. My girls left this space with a new breath in their lungs. They are changed for the better, and not by my doing. I was just a tool in this, and it's not over. They will continue to grow and flourish as they go on in life. 

This is what I do here, this is why I am here. To serve this awe-inspiring, trustworthy, fierce, loyal, loving, passionate, wonderful, crazy God. And He is constantly calling out His plea for us to join Him... today, I will.  And tomorrow, I will. And the next day, I will choose this.

Because He is worthy of this.

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.

Abandon Me

Dear Father,

Worship. Pure, unadulterated, passion-filled worship.

Jesus, I desire You. This weekend I was able to worship You in a way I rarely am able to worship. You gave me the privilege of coming together with three other talented musicians, under YOUR name, in YOUR presence. Father, thank You. Both Friday and Saturday nights we were able to worship You in song, in prayer. Jesus... I have no words. I can't describe my heart for You right now, because this weekend, you shattered it for You. I don't want me.


I don't want the way I do worship. I don't want the way I interact with others. I don't want my plans. 

You revealed to me this weekend Your plans for me. You revealed to me a piece of Your heart, and Father... that's what I want. 

I thirst for you. No, I yearn for you. And even more than that; I crave you. I ache for You, for Your voice, for Your breath on me. I covet Your presence and Your Spirit. I want you really, really bad Jesus. 

And so I abandon me. 

I lay down my fear of failure. I lay down my pride. I lay down my vanity. I lay down my hurt. I lay down my anger. God, I give to You my desire for a future relationship, for a marriage, for children. I give those to You, Father. Because right now, all I need is You. 

I give up my rights, Father. I give up every piece of my heart. I give my family to You. I give my friends to You. I give my church to You. I give my music; my voice and my guitar to You. I give you my desires. Every piece of my life, Father, reign over. Please be my Lord. I give you the throne.

I abandon me. I choose to pursue You.

I love you, Father. I love you. I love you.

Your Daughter,

Pure, Untainted, Joyous, WILD,

Emily Grace