I had the most vivid picture of what the relationship between me and God often looks like on Sunday, and I can't get it out of my head. I've heard and seen it described a lot of ways, but never like this before.

I was having a really tough day Sunday, dealing with a lot of emotions regarding things that are going on with me and with people around me. As I've described it before, it feels like going through withdrawal. I've never been addicted to drugs and so I've never had to deal with going through that kind of withdrawal, but I've heard it described as something you just have to let pass. The feeling comes, you hurt and struggle through it, then it passes on. That's how I was feeling about my emotions on Sunday. A thought or emotion would come, and I would just have to brace myself to let it come and then pass.

During one of those moments, the clearest picture came to mind of me and God. Sometimes, when in the middle of one of these times, it's difficult to understand where He is, what He's doing. But I saw God holding me, like a baby. I was kicking and screaming and crying, wanting to be released. And He didn't say a word. He just held onto me, tightly, and let me kick and scream.
And if you think about it, it makes so much sense. I've been at the doctor's office and witnessed many times a mother holding her child like this. Babies have to get shots that hurt and they don't understand. And they don't want it. But the mother just sits there, overwhelmed with the scene, hurting and devoid of words, tears right behind her eyes. Because the baby needs it. It must have it.

Silence does not mean neglect or disappearance. Instead, I think it means an overwhelming knowledge of what must occur coupled with an overwhelming desire to keep it from happening.

it's not enough to be a good person.
it's not enough to speak truth when no one else will.
it's not enough to wait, in anguish, for truth to be revealed.
it's not enough to know you're being the "bigger person."
it's not enough to be loving when they come back.

it's who you are good to.
it's how and why you are speaking that truth.
it's how spirit filled and selfless you are while waiting.
it's how humble you are.
it's how loving you are while they don't.


philippians 2.1-11
luke 6.32

in Luke 15, there is the all too famous story of the Prodigal Son. As the story has been told time and time again, most of the focus being on either the son, who is considered the prodigal here, or the older brother. But rarely has emphasis been put on the father. And it wasn't for me until last semester.

In case you haven't read it, there is this family consisting of 2 sons and a father. Neither son has a great relationship with his father. One, the older brother, sees his father as a task master, maybe feeling like he could never measure up. The other son, the prodigal in this story, kind of walks all over his dad. He's sick of it, doesn't really care about his dad, and says, I want my inheritance, see ya later. (As pointed out to me last semester, this is an unbelievable show of disrespect).
And the father lets him go.
We aren't told why the father and sons didn't have a good relationship. We aren't even really told they don't. But the actions of the sons, the nonstop work to please the father and the absolute rebellion against him, speaks for itself.
Eventually, the prodigal comes back. He realizes, only after losing all his money, pride, self-respect, and anyone to care for him, that he misses his father. That he loves his father. That that's the only place he needs to be. So he returns home, fully expecting to be a slave. In fact, he even told his father to make him such. He wasn't worthy.
But the Father runs to him. He sees him coming and all the time he has been anxiously awaiting his return has finally come to an end.

I am reading a book for bible study called, "He loves Me!" and in it, the author states about the father, "...waiting is far more difficult than prodding or nagging. But wait he did, for a marvelous thing to happen-to let the son come to his senses."

Many times in my life are designated as "waiting periods." I'm in one now. Often, it is seen most in times of suffering, or when a big decision needs to be made. But sometimes, God just needs you to wait. To wait and see what He is doing, what He has ALREADY done. And waiting truly is the hardest. For God, I think, as He watches us writhe around in anxiety, but mostly for us. It's not easy to wait. To relinquish every ounce of control, fear, uncertainty, and just to be still. But then you picture the inexpressible joy that comes from the image of the father RUNNING after the son, even though men of this time did not do this. And the son is welcomed back with jewels and robes and so much more love than he could have ever imagined.

Sometimes following in the footsteps of Jesus is hard. Almost blinded to everyone and everything around me besides Him, I just hold on for dear life.
And somewhere along the way, I trip over a rock and when I look down, even for that brief moment in time, I become acutely aware of everyone and everything I've had to leave behind.

"come, follow Me"
"And they left at once and followed Him."

There is absolutely no other life to be had. But it's not easy.
And when I feel frantic and start to drown from unbelief, I am pulled out of the pit and just carried for a little while. Just long enough to regain my footing.

"Quiet down before God, be prayerful before him." Psalm 37.7

"I know exactly what I need to do. I know what God wants. Surrender is required, yes, but I don't want to."

I arrived in Memphis with a backseat full of stuff, heart on the edge of freaking out, and healing just around the corner. Behind me was a semester of hard knocks, bad relationships, and a very confused family in a whirlwind of change. And I wasn't ready. I shut myself up so tightly, nothing was getting in. I was determined.

Saturday night, I cried myself to sleep. "What am I doing here?" "I take it back, no no no this isn't right." An overwhelming feeling of discomfort was settling in, and it was true. I was about to be really uncomfortable. The next morning, the sermon was on Micah 6.8. The usual preacher wasn't there. It was just a random fill-in. But it wasn't for me. Because Micah 6.8 is taped to my computer. Micah 6.8 had been on my heart the whole week before I even got to Memphis. God showed me. I knew I was supposed to be in Memphis.

I learned I stumbled I loved I hurt I fell I got up I walked tall I walked even taller I loved some more I was loved I hurt I doubted I cried I felt angry I felt alone I fell. I got up. I fell. I stayed on my knees I begged and begged and begged I learned I loved. I was loved.

And again, I am back in Nashville. God brought me full circle. There are no words intimate or expressive enough to provide the details. But if there's one thing I've learned is that there's no point in frantically searching for solid ground all the time when instead...I'm being carried.

paraphrasing this morning's sermon:

"they have a Brynn-sized [a two year old] playground at this park that we like to go to. it has 4 foot slides that i know are safe. but you see, my Brynn is adventurous. she likes to go to the playground for kids 5+ and ride the 10 foot and 15 foot windy slides. and i know it will be ok because i'm there. i am with her. i am the one that grabs her leg when she's sliding down head first, catching her before she hits the ground. and honestly, as she gets older, i would be devastated if she went back to those 4 foot slides. if she went back to what she is comfortable with."

you can figure out the analogy, i'm sure.

"You've already had that bathroom moment. He has already come to you saying, 'I am your God. I am a lap. I've got you back and can offer you far more than anything this world can.' Now, you must speak truth into their world. You may be the only one that ever has."
-Susan Rubio

Thank you.