Why did I ever think things would be easy in the first place? Somehow did I think that being transformed into the image of His likeness would not be without pain?
Do I encounter seasons of doubt and just quit? Or do I take the good with the bad and realize there are lessons to be learned in the midst of these trials?
These are questions I've been pondering.
Last fall, I spent three months as an intern at the International House of Prayer in Kansas City, MO.
It did not change my life; Jesus did.
He showed up in a tangible way in my heart. I personalized my faith in a way that I had not done since committing my life to Christ as a young child. Spending about five hours in the prayer room each night makes one acutely aware of personal flaws. I found myself stretched spiritually, and could feel my shallow, weak roots becoming healthier as I allowed the Father to care for them and prune away the things choking the life out of me. My fellow blogger and best friend explains this process the best in her blog.
That three months catalyzed a process that continues outside the prayer room, outside the walls of a house of prayer where I'm surrounded by fellow believers. The continuation of these decisions to willfully choose to grow closer to God choice by choice, step by step, moment by moment, day by day now occur in the marketplace...like most of us.
Few have the rare opportunity I enjoyed to sit before the feet of Jesus for such a focused period of time. True, we all have that option daily. Sometimes real life gets in the way. At least that's our excuse. But since that season at IHOP-KC, I've been discovering how much God has changed me. I'm finding that I handle just plain life better, and that the times I experience moments and, let's be real, seasons of doubt, I more quickly go find myself in the secret place. The place where Jesus and I can talk. Honestly. The place where He tells me that He knew what He was getting into when He created me. He knows my brokenness, my flaws, my fears, my joys, my thoughts, my deeds, my intentions, and most of all, my heart, better than anyone or anything on this planet.
It's been a journey to begin to understand this kind of love, this dedication to humanity. I'd be lying if I said that I understand it. Because I can't. Not completely. My human frame cannot understand the type of love that causes an indescribable, sovereign, all-consuming, inexhaustible, omnipotent, Creator-of-the-Universe God to take on the form of a human to show me the depths of His love. That's crazy.
Sometimes we write for others. Sometimes we write for ourselves. Sometimes we write for both. This is one of those times.
As I sit here writing this, the writer in me wants to have an introduction, a thesis, a body, and a conclusion. It wants to control what this post is about. Even the title has changed. Three times.
But that's not the point. This post is about my journey, and it's in real time today. I think the point, if I had to pick one, is that most of us are control freaks, and at least for me, my doubts and uncertainties become more unbearable when I take God's leadership out of the picture. I was created to voluntarily give up my rights to my life. When I voluntarily and stubbornly accept my own leadership of my life without His input, things just don't go well.
It's only in my weakness that He can be made strong. I can find Jesus at the end of my rope, but my life goes much better if He is my rope. And my anchor.
So as this blog progresses, the questions remain, but my hope is renewed. Writing is cathartic.
I'm a reforming control freak. Join me on this journey. We are pilgrims on a journey. Our destination depends on Who we serve. As for me, I'm going to follow Jesus. No matter what.
"Our momentary light affliction is producing for us an absolutely incomparable eternal weight of glory. So we do not focus on what is seen, but on what is unseen; for what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal." -2 Cor. 4:17-18
