A Place I Long to Know

“Are you there, God? It’s me… again.” I started. Lost in my own pain, I slowly opened my eyes to look around, open, close.

I was reaching, searching for a sense of safety and familiarity. Like a newborn, seeking a warm bosom’s embrace searching for milk to nurse away these viciously gnawing stomach pains.

I wish I could report back to Him some kind of beautiful news. Ya’ know, like;

‘Dew drops on sunflower petals,’ and ‘Hummingbird songs in the distance.’

No dice-

– I offer this, a much more complex, yet relatable truth, brimming with universally understood emotion.

“How did I get here?” I cried out! “Are you really still here, with me, in this moment… right now?” I waited.

Deep down I knew the truth.

I was the one, I’d run away.

When I was young the flickering on of street lights served as the alarm, but now, how am I supposed to know when it’s time to come home?

Over here, in my ‘grown’-ness, just trippin’, running in circles, stuck in a ‘doing me’ rut.

-I see now, the whole ‘do me’ movement is a trap.

I messed up bad… but is it too late?

“You said, you wouldn’t put more on me than I could bear, and I trust you. But I - I'm weak,” whispering now, “Jesus I'm tired.”

Fear and anxiety had crept up on me overnight, and just like blind mice, I ran screaming into the darkness. My face wet, I was crying. Silently I questioned myself; ‘are these tears from pain, or maybe, is it evidence of my shame?’

“I heard you say 'turn right here,” – I’d gone left instead.

Now here I am, lost, far off track, and spinning-out in just about

every way conceivable.

Spiritually. Physically. Mentally. Financially… I’m a mess.

“When I looked around at my reality, your vision seemed too big for me-

rather…

well…

God…”

To tell you the truth; my vision was too blurry to get even take a good look at what He’d shown me.

“What you said to me seemed unfathomable.”

I was stuck in that moment again. Unable to process a reality that far removed from the day-to-day struggle of my survival.

You see, at some point while running this race, I’d put blinders up. I put my head down and watched.. each foot-step unsure and unsteady.

Never taking a moment to really look up and see where I was headed.

Go, Go, Go!

A world full of expectations and deadlines called out to me, urging me to keep up with the Joneses. The Insta-worthy moments across social media get 24/7 airplay in my mind. They’d kept me running until my body collapsed in defeat each night. The images, beautiful videos depicting the perfect family, home, kids, cars, careers, vacations… all of them, they’d taken up residence in my mind- rent free, might I add.

“Dear God, please forgive me.”

“I DO feel your gentle mercy and quiet guidance in my life.

I’m just, I'm so far away from…” my voice dropped, barely audible “home.”

My heart’s been beating so hard, feeling like the hoof beat of a thousand zebras in my chest, my breathing jagged, waking up in cold sweats, constant body aches... This whole time, I thought I was running, moving forward- but I’ve been sprinting in place.

“Even still,” I speak through closed eyes "thank you, Lord! If it weren’t for your mercy, I don’t know where I’d be.”

“Are, are you there, God?”

Still asking in earnest,

“I’m the one you chose for a time like now, right?”

I’m still breathing, so there must be a reason, right?

“You still love me, don’t you?”

“How do I even begin to unravel these knots in my stomach?”

“Oh God, will I ever be able to look You, or anybody else,

in the face again?”

“Can I really be forgiven for all the wrong I’ve done?”

“Do you still have room for me in your warm embrace?”

“And, am I even allowed back in the Holy place?”

“How do I start living right?”

I know I tore all of *this* up- tables turning- once a shining glint of defiance in my eye, tears fall freely now.

“And,” I try to hold back the sobs building in my chest, “if I stumble and make a fool of myself again... do you promise to stay with me?”

“Will you really forgive, forget, and promise to still love me?”

I wonder about how much I’ve missed.

“I’m scared to know,” I felt compelled to ask, “Father, what would the world look like if I’d done what you said to do…”

I let my mind wonder back, “…when you first asked me to do it?”

*Okaaaayyy*

Quickly, before the words bounced back from the ceiling, “I’m not quite sure I’m ready for that answer.”

“Oh, Father, please forgive me again.”

It might take a while for me to look myself in the eye again. I

tend to forgive myself slowly. On more than an occasion or two, it’s taken years

to forgive myself. I remember being so down on myself; in my mind, each new

misstep was both caused by, and renewed cause for, damnation.

I spent years convicting myself, judging every dropped ball, every natural human error.

–in my eyes; they were all proof positive of my failure to be an upright woman of God.

My humanity weaponized and used to dig knives deeper into my own heart, some sad punishment for wrongdoings.

Once, while in seminary, I was so overwrought with my own conviction,

-Not to be confused with righteous convictions or even altruistically natured redirection.

I’d become so downtrodden and hopeless, my seminary instructor told me “Not forgiving yourself, well that’s like saying Jesus died for nothing,” he continued, “it’s like saying YOU have a redemptive power that His perfect and holy blood can’t match.”

Welp, if it were up to me, and I had to find recompense for my misdeeds… I’m gonna go ahead and leave that right there- I have no answer.

In the years since our conversation, I’ve given his statement quite a bit of thought. His words shifted a paradigm in my understanding. Moved only by the truth of his statement, I was taught to appreciate my forgiveness more deeply.

Try as we might, some old habits do indeed die hard.

And today, I needed to hear it from God,

“Here I am, I’m reaching out to you Lord,”

“I’m so sorry I failed, please forgive me for everything.

Show me a way out of this storm, I don’t even know where to start on my own.

Please guide my steps, and I will follow you.”

“Please,” I beg softly, “hold me up Father,”

I’m weak, my whole body feels hollow; I need to be filled; I need to feel the living waters of His Holy Spirit again. I’m in no position to ask, still I whisper,

“Please, don’t let me go.”

I sob, my tears carrying a message language can’t communicate.

“-You still here, God?”

“I know I’m talking a lot; I’m just so lost and confused.”

I don’t really know what to do now.

“I know I’m rambling a bit, God, but, as I stumble over

these words, I feel your Holy Spirit moving in this place.”

His Spirit breathes fresh air into my lungs, I pull deeply between chest quivering tears.

I feel his love, the Holy Spirt moving within me, chipping away at my pride and my envy, freeing my mind of self-hatred. My desire to be the belle of the ball has always caused me to fall short.

My fear of failure, or worse- humiliation- has always held me

hostage. My emotions at gun-point, hair pin trigger, move with far too much

folly given the immense gravity of the situation,

- too close to the edge.

-I can’t continue living like this.

“In an effort to somehow dim the light you put inside of

me,”

I’d attempted to hide from my own consciousness too, -like somehow, I could... disguise my God given purpose.

I’d only managed to cover myself, and my gifting, in straight-up filth.

“I sinned and I sinned until I didn’t recognize myself,”

- I dared not to look too hard, either.

“I didn't want to see; I didn’t feel like the person you called me to be.”

Like, somehow, not looking would lessen the distance

between where I was and where I was called to

be.

Now I’m up, looking in the bathroom mirror, afraid to make eye contact with my own reflection. Unsure if I’ll recognize the person looking back.

“Dear God, are you still with me?”

Please, don’t leave me like this.

“Please, make me over and make me whole.”

Please, do the miraculous things that only You

can do.

“I beg you Jesus,” my voice, beginning to feel some power, “remake

my soul!” I cry out.

I need a right now kind of miracle, “take my wounds and fill them with the healing balm of your love!”

“Please, take these pitiful rags. I beg of you, please

clothe me in YOUR ARMOR.”

I want to stand strong – and I can't do any of

this on my own.

“Please Father,

Belt my waist in truth; Protect my chest with a breastplate of your righteousness; Fit my feet with the readiness of peace; Allow me to holdfast a shield of faith; Cover my head in your salvation;

Keep your Word in my heart”

– a proper sword to keep close in daily battle.

“Outfit me with a prayer for each occasion;

And, please don’t allow me to be lulled into the darkness of isolation.”

“As I pray to you Lord, I can feel you here, and in this

most intimate moment,” and in full disclosure, “I’ve missed your presence.”

Looking around now,

“I see evidence of your love, mercy, and continual blessings all over my life,”

Resting my weary soul in your warm embrace- “I’m grateful for this private moment with you. I needed your reassurance.”

“While we sit in this perfect moment, Father,” I ask,

“Please have your people pray for me- that I fearlessly share, speak, and write about You, and if it be your will at this time, I’m ready.”

“I’m here to share the truths of your gospel- to share evidence of your immense love and power, as I’ve witnessed it,”

You are still in the miracle working business;

And, you always have been.

“Have them pray that I move boldly in the direction you would have me to go. Heading to the place I rightfully belong. So that I can stand on your Word, in order to fulfill my purpose in this life.”

“Send peace, love and faith to all my brothers and sisters in you, God- the Father, and our Lord- Jesus the Christ.”

“Thank you for allowing me this opportunity to get right again.

In the holy name of Jesus, Amen.”