For the past few weeks, I’ve been swimming in what seemed to be an endless tunnel of mess. That wasn’t easy to write or admit, but I think that this statement and this blog are necessary for me to show you that I’m authentically broken, yet from that arises a Love that is beyond words.
Confusion that cannot be accurately put into words has clogged my head; feelings of being forsaken, forgotten, alone, have overwhelmed my everyday life; a lack in my desire to pray, to seek, to thirst for the One who has always been my Constant has solidified that I have literally been in an empty void.
I’m not really sure how it all started, but I guess you could say it’s been a little rocky.
Being 2500 miles away from the people who know me better than anyone; stepping foot into my twenties and realizing I actually have no clue what I’m doing with my life; feeling unloved and alone; beginning to let his sneaky lies back in; an overall exhaustion that consumes every day —I guess these are all the factors that fueled this out-of-nowhere spiral that knocked me down.
I think I lost sight. Of Him. Of my purpose. But most of all of who I am. I was made and formed in the womb of my mother and given breath and a heartbeat. He breathed my soul into me and gave me the gift of His life, so that I could know Him and learn how to love. I’m not the grade I get on my next test. I’m not the number of friends that I have. I’m not the vocation that I am discerning. And I am most definitely not His second choice. I’m not any of those things, I’m His.
So after realizing these lies, these things that had walled me off and put me in the corner, I ever so gently stumbled into the light.
I entered into the presence of my Lord on a Monday morning for my weekly holy hour, prepared to once again feel nothing, fall asleep, and give in to the lies, when He stopped me in my tracks. Instead I sat there and felt this little question on my heart: What does your heart long for?
And I felt it. It bubbled up inside of me: the passion, the desire, the inspiration. I pulled out my journal and wrote Him a poem. And with that tiny openness, He flooded me. He came crashing in and I felt my heart swing wide open.
He reminded me that He had been sitting there knocking, and weeping because I hadn’t been letting Him in. He spoke truth to my heart, telling me that I had given fear too much space, and it had taken over my whole heart, leaving it walled off and dark. There was no room for Jesus because I had let the fear have free reign. But He never gave up. He sat outside my heart, knocking and waiting until I would be quiet enough to listen to the knock. And when I did, He flooded my soul with His light that I had been hidden from for weeks. He embraced my weak and weary soul, reminding me that I’m not called to bear the cross on my own.
I sat on the little brown bench and stared at my Jesus in the pale piece of bread that conceals His glory as my soul cried out for the One I’d been missing: “It is You. It is Jesus. Emmanuel.”
See, here’s the thing, dear friends. I don’t want anything or anyone but Jesus. I really don’t.
I long to be swept up in His gaze for the rest of my earthly life and the eternity of my heavenly one.
But I always get in my own way. I count the cost. I dwell on the sacrifice. I stay fixed upon what He will take away.
But I forget that He gives. He gives so abundantly. Abundant life, he gives us, with every breath we take in and exhale out.
I sat on that little brown bench in the gaze of my Jesus and I said these words: “Jesus, You could take all of it away. Everything. And as long as I still have You, my Jesus, I will never be alone.”
That’s the truth! Yet so often I convince myself that until there’s a boy holding my hand and a circle of friends dancing around me, I’m not loved or enough or beautiful or worthy. It’s such a lie!
He is enough. He TRULY IS ENOUGH. He hung from a piece of wood with tarnished nails through His own Body and cried out “I thirst” to remind us our souls were the only thing that could ever satisfy Him. He gave us His Mother. He gave us His Word. He promised us that He would always be with us.
Let this be our prayer. Increase this feeble faith, Lord, who doubts and questions and walls itself off out of fear. Increase this faith, to bear the strongest tempest, the raging fire, and the quiet, sneaky lies that shake our boats even more, even harder, even faster than the storms do. Strengthen this faith, this heart. Teach her to love and give and receive. Make my heart ache for you, that nothing could ever quench the thirst of my soul.
Dear friends, make Him your life, your only desire. I’m just a girl who writes blogs, but I know the God who gave me the words to write this blog and He just aches for your beautifully handmade soul.
I can’t look you in the eyes and tell you that it will all be okay, that the tears and the fog will clear up, and crosses will vanish. All I can tell you is that living this life and trying to save yourself at the same time are the only ways to ensure you will fall.
Yet, living this life and letting Him save you and lift up your cross to make it a little lighter is the one true way to the heavenly throne. You still have to walk to Calvary, and you will fall along the way, but with Him, you won’t fall alone.
Calvary, death, suffering, confusion, fear — it’s inevitable. But there’s a Resurrection beyond the grave.
Let Him in, dear friend. There is abundant life knocking.
An Open Heart 