Musings.

"The best equipping is living

in My presence,

My hand that never lets go of yours. 

Discuss everything with Me... Remember that 

I am on your side, and that I have overcome the world."

Often I live as if I'm on the losing side of the battle. I find myself focusing on my insecurities and I allow the little nagging thoughts of doubt take root and idly observe as they begin to bloom. 

I've been reading through John; a chronicled account of Jesus' coming and going, of His passionate and radical and beautifully messy lifestyle. I find hope in that, because I can identify with the messy. I identify with the characters that encounter Him; with the woman at the well in chapter 4 who is caught up in something that she tries to hide and He calls her out in love, drawing her in to drink of His wellspring, calling her into true life. 

I identify with the blind man in chapter 9 who, without question, did exactly as Jesus instructed and was able to see for the first time, tasting the freedom of His gift fully.

And while I find a common ground with many of these ancient characters, I take heart in the fact that my God is indeed the Father of all, that He is Mighty, Strong, a Wonderful Counselor and a God of unabashed Love. And I find that, rather than taking up the mindset of the defeated, He has given me the Spirit, and  "He who believes in Me [Jesus], as the Scripture has said, out of his heart will flow rivers of living water". (John 7:38) 

We constantly live in a place of war within ourselves; trying to decide whether to follow our hearts or follow that which we know to be true. We borrow advice from the deep places in our hearts and believe them to be absolute truth without testing them first, however, Jeremiah 17:9 challenges that very concept;

The heart is deceitful above all things,

and desperately sick,

who can understand it?

You know what strikes me? Not even the fact that my heart is deceitful above ALL things, but that it is desperately sick. My heart. My heart, which has been seeking and craving and running after God for years. My heart, which I want with every part of me to believe is good and whole and pure. But even in saying that, I know that my assumptions are incorrect. 

I am flawed; I am desperately sick; and I am grateful for this.

Because that gives me a chance to be like the blind man; to be in a place of humility and raw desperation where my Jesus can place His hands over me and instruct me towards healing. Because He promises that in my belief of Him, He will equip me with the Holy Spirit, which will flow from me like a river of water, quenching the dark and spreading light within. Because my flaws are the very things He is going to heal when I enter into His kingdom for the rest of eternity. Because when I am passing through His gates into His glorious, unleashed presence, I will experience Him like never before.

I know that in Him I am on the winning side. That I don't have to strive to fight the battle in my own strength, but that He is next to me grinning, effortlessly holding up His defense against the enemy and urging me to do the same, drawing from His unending strength. 

He is my Champion. He has overcome.

Oregon. Laughter. Waterfall.

I'm sitting at my computer in sweats and a t-shirt, drinking steaming homemade Chai tea, face scrubbed clean of makeup. It's raining outside. I'm exhausted. I'm listening to chill music. I went camping this past weekend, so being clean, in clean sweats and having clean hair feels incredible.

This past weekend was a challenge for me. I was invited by a friend to go camping near Roseburg, Oregon, with her former college group from Suburban Christian Church. I headed to Oregon on Monday the 21st, and spent a few days with my friend before we drove down to Corvallis to meet up at Suburban on Friday with the group of campers who were heading in earlier than others. 

First of all: I love camping. And I absolutely love meeting new people. But this weekend, God had a lesson for me.

When we arrived at our campsite and had finished setting up, and the rest of the campers arrived, we ate dinner and played a few games that helped us familiarize ourselves with each other. Normally, I'm pretty good at meeting people and starting up conversations, but for some reason this weekend, I was scared. Terrified of messing up and of letting people down. I hadn't realized I had slipped back into the fear of man until Saturday afternoon. I was invited multiple times to go hiking with a few different groups of people during free time Saturday, but I declined. I suppose that I was nervous that I wouldn't be able to keep up (I have exercise-induced asthma... LAME excuse not to go hiking!) or that I'd not know how to strike up conversation. Essentially, I was being a complete bore and absolutely ridiculous. 

Instead of hiking, I went down to the river and sat against one of the concrete pillars holding up one side of the bridge. I brought my Bible and notebook down with me and set them both down under a plant growing on the side of the concrete and rocks I was sitting on. I took a sip of my tea from my mug... and just listened.

Have you ever sat beside a river and just let the noise of the water wash over you? It's healing. It's cleansing. It's exhilarating. As I was sitting, a thought popped into my head.

"Em... what are you afraid of?" 

Confused, I answered. "Sickness. Pain...being caged...?" I wasn't entirely sure where this was going.

"No." The thought echoed, persistent, "What are you afraid of? Why are you afraid to speak to people? Why are you afraid to interact?" 

I was blown away. Here I was, sitting alone by a river, feeling sorry for myself, when I had clearly been asked and sought after by multiple people. I had been given opportunity to engage in numerous activities and tasks, and had backed out on each one. Seriously, how silly can I be? 

I spent some time in prayer and talking to God about my fears of people, and He so graciously reminded me that His strength is sufficient, and that my joy can be found in Him, not in the approval or thoughts of man. GOODNESS how freeing that can be! 

I'd love to say that I didn't give it another thought that weekend, but that would be lying. However, I did make an effort to be interactive with the rest of the group, and as I let myself out of my shell more, I received an incredible amount of acceptance, understanding, and love from those around me. I was talking with a friend about this, and she brought up an interesting question:

How often do we miss the love and grace that's offered or poured out to us, just because we are so intent on ourselves and our "protection"? I tend to completely, if unintentionally, ignore what's being set right in front of me out of concern for myself. I had realized this half a year ago, but I didn't realize how incredibly easy it was to slip back into this. Once I opened up, though... dang. God used my time so well. I was privileged to be able to share my complete story with two of my new friends, and stay up late talking with a friend about life, passions, dreams, and all the in-between things. 

Moral of this post: Trust. Don't let the little things get in the way. Deep down, there will always be a bit of insecurity. It's sad, but true, and being human and sinners, I don't think that it will ever go away. Thankfully, we serve a God, a Daddy, who is bigger, and stronger, and so much more on fire with passion for us that we can ever imagine. He will always carry us through, and when it's too much for us, that's where He begins to work most powerfully, because that is where we need to surrender. It was hard to learn surrender this weekend, but it ended up being a beautiful exchange, and in turn I was able to experience incredible grace and joy.

So, sitting here, in my sweats and finishing up my Chai... I'm entirely thankful to claim the love of my Daddy who fought for me, and will continue to fight for me. Thanks Jesus, for Your gentle and passionate ways of reminding me of my fragility and Your unending strength.