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.

Forfeit.

You know what the greatest tragedy in life is? It's someone whose god gets smaller and smaller with each passing day.

Maybe it's time to stop placing four-dimensional limits on God. Maybe it's time to stop putting God in a box the size of your cerebral cortex. Maybe it's time to stop creating God in your image and let Him create you in His.

The more we grow, the bigger God should get. And the bigger God gets, the smaller our lions will become.

- Mark Batterson

I'm currently reading a book called 'In a Pit With a Lion on a Snowy Day', written by Mark Batterson. It uses the story of Benaiah, from 2 Samuel 23. All we know about Benaiah is this:

Benaiah son of Jehoiada, a valiant fighter from Kabzeel, performed great exploits. He struck down Moab’s two mightiest warriors. He also went down into a pit on a snowy day and killed a lion. And he struck down a huge Egyptian. Although the Egyptian had a spear in his hand, Benaiah went against him with a club. He snatched the spear from the Egyptian’s hand and killed him with his own spear. (2 Sam. 23:20-21)

This book focuses on the fact that Benaiah followed a lion into a snowy pit... and killed it. Generally, one would never follow a lion down into a dark, snowy, cold pit with the sole purpose of killing it. Snow inhibits us as humans, it makes us cold and stiff. It's hard to maneuver in. And in the dark of a pit, it's even more slippery than usual because it's potentially crystallized into ice. Lions have superior vision to humans in the darkness; their eyes let in more light than ours, and they can see in the dark. They have four huge, sure paws and a thick fur coat to protect themselves from the cold. Clearly, the lion had the advantage.

Yet Benaiah wasn't fearful enough to run away from it; rather, he pursued this lion into it's own territory and killed it.

This is a wonderful analogy for my own personal fears. As I'm reading this book, I've been mulling over the fact that I have so many more fears underneath my surface than I imagined. I was sitting on the end of the dock last night, staring out at the deep black hovering over the sea, and I was intimately aware of the fact that I had fear welling up inside of me. I spent a good amount of time trying to decipher what the fear was from and I realized that, just as this book states, I've been putting my God into a four-dimensional box. I've been containing Him within the realms of my mind because that's what I understand. I can't understand or fathom the greatness of Him when He is outside of the confines that I've placed Him in.

This past week has been one of many such realizations, and I am actively taking a stand against the fear that so easily entangles me. I'm coming against the fear that my Father cannot protect me. I give up the control that I so desperately want to have, because I trust myself... and I choose to trust Him instead. I break the fear of failure, the fear of being hurt. I claim the freedom that has always been here, has always been placed in front of me, and I choose to dance in His wild and beautiful and fierce and loving presence with an expectancy of more life, of more depth.

I had a vision of myself dancing and twirling on top of the ocean, clothed in garments of silver, my hair flowing behind me, streaked with purple and gold, my eyes burning with an intense joy. A single crystalline tear traveled down my face, and I grinned. That was it. No explanation came for a few moments, and then I started to pray it out, and it made so much sense. I want to dance in the royalty and the raw, wild joy that He has given me. I will let myself be vulnerable, let my emotions show like that single tear on my cheek, clear and shining and real. I will let myself do the impossible; dancing on water and laughing in the face of the fear that says that I can't.

I will not forfeit my dreams for fear of the unknown. My dreams hold a weight of enormity; they speak of passion and they cry out for adventure. I will not quench or silence these dreams and ambitions because of the fear of inadequacy. I will tame my fear. I will walk in His freedom. And I will kill the lions within, because in Him, I can slaughter beasts and love the unlovable in the same breath.

My God will not be placed in a box.

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.

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.

Walking Forward.

My deepest fear is that I'll forget.

That I'll forget what's happened to me in the past year. That the memories will fade, and that I won't be able to recall the moments of bliss, of pain, of healing and of realization that I've experienced. I'm afraid that the relationships I've made will change, that they will fall away and become little more than dust. I'm afraid that I'll forget what my Jesus did for me, that I'll forget what it was like to live without Him, and that I'll slowly fall into a pattern of apathy regarding my relationship with Him.

And I've been letting this fear drive me. I've been re-living and writing down and going over and looking through the memories, whether in pictures or in my brain and heart, and I've been documenting them as best as I can. But, through this, I've lost sight of the road I'm on.

I was talking with a friend the other night, and in our conversation he mentioned that I seemed like the kind of person who looks to the past more than the future. I answered by saying, essentially, that I have a mix of both... but now that I've thought about it, I think he's right. I've spent too much time looking back while walking forward, and today I stumbled.

I can't explain what happened exactly, but I realized that I've been ignoring what Jesus has been trying to teach me and where He's been leading me recently. And I don't like that.

Not one bit.

I think it's time for me to stop running in circles and focus on what He has for me, and while I can keep a healthy perspective of the past and a healthy outlook on the future, I need to be here, now, with Him, doing what He's calling me to do.

So that's my plan--not to plan, to let Him direct, to let Him do what He does best, and lead me.

And as for forgetting, I think He created the brain for a reason. I have the mental capacity to remember, so... I don't need to worry about it.

My Salvation Lies in Your Love

I get scared.

Especially when I realize that my talents and character and all the things that I pride myself on are nothing more than dust. 

My talents fail me. My character fails me. My thoughts--my very flesh--it will always, always fail me. I can not rely on myself. 

I can rely on my God. I can rely on the fact that day after day, no matter where I am, what I'm doing, He will be there, right next to me. He will always be the one taking my hand and helping me up, leading me over mountains and through the deep recesses of the earth. 

And even better, when I am feeling weak and terrified and am worrying that what I am about to do will fail me, He gives me His voice. He gives me His strength. He gives me His hands, and His feet, and His heart. 

And when I feel like I'm being attacked, like life is getting too hard, he steps in carries me. He rides the heavens to help me. And He promises to do it again, and again, and again...

Because He loves me.

Jesus, YOU are worthy. Take my life and let it be used for Your glory. Take all of me, everything, my faults and my failures and my joys and my strengths. And Jesus... run with it. Shape me. Create, and re-create, and  chisel away, and bring forth your sweet fragrance in my heart, in my life. 

Because I love you. 

And I desire more.

And then I Became Undone

There's something about a bonfire that draws me in. The flame is so mesmerizing, dancing and twirling around the wood, creating and re-creating an endless recital of passion.

Last night I was gathered around a bonfire with five of my closest friends, and as we sat and talked and laughed together, something in the atmosphere was unleashed. A passion that had been kindled in each of our hearts was slowly loosed as we began to venture deeper into topics close to our hearts.

I have been struggling in the weeks past. I have been hearing from God and blatantly ignoring His call and His direction. He has been pouring into me a desire and a passion that I have been pushing aside and refusing to take a closer look at. Last night I expressed my distress and frustration over this, and a friend asked me, "Emily. What are you afraid of?"

Though I knew the answer, this question knocked me off of my feet. How blind I have been! I have seen what God asks of me, I have seen visions and heard songs that speak of what will come, should I choose to follow His calling. I have had dreams full of His heart for others and His desire to heal and provide for the hurting, for the desperate, for the lost and the angry. I know what I am supposed to do. And until now, I haven't wanted to acknowledge it. Last night, however... something broke. My heart has been harboring fear of the unknown, and as my friend provoked me to think about this, something in my spirit came undone.

I am afraid of people. I am afraid that when I step out into what my Father is calling me to do, I will look like a fool. I'm afraid that I will be looked down upon, and I will be despised, rejected, and cast away from people. I know that what I am called to do is big, and I know that I will lose face. I have been afraid of stepping away from my pride for fear I will lose it, and I have been afraid that my reputation will be shot once I move into this boldness that is drawing me nearer.

Today, I am here to say that I am willing. I am willing to look the part of a fool. I am willing to be cast aside. I am willing to lose my reputation, to lose my friendships, to lose my family and my church and my house and every single comfort that I have. I am willing, because I know that no matter what, no matter how far I go, no matter where I am called, the Protector and the Redeemer is standing right next to me. Ultimately, that is what matters. I am willing to lose my life of comfort and of standards and of expectations to pick up the life of a servant, a life of servitude and blessing others, a life of joy and of pain and of laughter and tears, of stepping into the places no one else is willing to go, of going there with people and being one hundred percent vulnerable and open. I am willing to lose it all, because through losing this life, I am gaining a much better one.

So this is me, expressing my fears and my faults and my failures and thanking God that HE is sovereign and that HE is my identity and my drivng force. Without Him, I will come undone. Within Him, I am unstoppable. I claim His power and His freedom and His strength, boldness, and courage, and I say that this life I am living, it's His.

Here I am, I stand with arms wide open, to the One, the Son, the everlasting God.