I leave for North Carolina in 36 hours.
My heart is full and heavy and hurting and excited. My heart is overwhelmed.
In the wee hours of the morning of New Year's Day, we lost my cousin in Louisville in a one car accident. As I've watched my mother and heard of the rest of my family's mourning, I've found myself oddly detached from it all. Over the last week, I've found myself oddly detached from everything. Strange moods, inability to converse with people beyond the surface level, silence once the conversation crosses into more serious territory, a dam blocking a flood of emotions tempting the strength of my structure.
It's because I'm overwhelmed.
I'm overwhelmed with the sheer amount of loss that I have experienced this past month. Loss of a meaningful job with a co-worker that has become one of my best friends. Loss of a home that I've made for myself over the last two years--an unexpected home filled with a group of supportive women, families that have taken me under their wing, men and women I call friends who love me more than I could ever deserve. Loss of my family close by--a family that is grieving, a family that is struggling, a family that is my source of strength. Loss of a church home that has embraced every part of me and given me a place to use my gifts. Loss of an aunt who was a warrior. Loss of a cousin who was a father and a life yet lived.
I'm overwhelmed because in the midst of all this loss, I feel a call that I've yet to put words to. This is a call much greater than the one I've expressed so far in this blog. It's more than just a call to the hard places--a call to work with youth in a way that is transformative. I feel--on some level--that it's a call to find God.
Since the fall of 2006, I have been on a journey to discover a Christianity I can believe in. That journey has led me through doubt, self-discovery, faith, trust, skepticism, hope, love, hurt, disbelief, regret, resentment, life. Recently, though, I've become unsettled in the stalemate that I called on my search when I moved to Dallas. I wanted to believe in Jesus. I needed to believe when I came to Dallas because I had nothing else--no purpose or hope outside of God.
But lately, I've felt the pull of my Creator asking me to finally reconcile my doubts and find the hope and grace God offers through Jesus Christ, to understand the purpose of the Word of God in my life, and to know eternal life. To do this, I need space. I need to be in the place where I am free to connect with God how we have connected best--in nature, in peace, in the wilderness. I need to be in a place where I don't fall so easily in to the structure I grew up with and the beliefs I've been told to assume as my own, but instead am challenged and tempted so I can know where my hope lies.
Jesus and others in scripture spent long periods of time in the wilderness. It was in the wilderness that they grew and matured and began the Lord's work.
This is going to be the hardest part of my journey. As I write this, I am struck with fear that it won't turn out as I hope, that I'll let the enemy win.
Yet this I call to mind and therefore have hope: because of the Lord's great love, we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.
Lamentations 3:21-23
This is the true journey of my heart and the most important one.
I am so jealous you have the strength to do this. And believe me, you ARE strong. One of the strongest. Don't doubt that.
ReplyDeleteDoubt can be a healthy thing - it can make us question things that need to be questioned. When you're in the wilderness, remember that part of finding the answer is knowing to ask the right question. Focus on the question, and you may find that you don't have to look far to find the answer.
P.S. Also don't forget TP. That stuff is like gold when you're in the sticks.