Day 292

Just received an e-mail.

This coming Sunday will be my last intentional visit to the Colonial outpost of Fellowship Memphis.

Time passes by so quickly.  It seems as if just yesterday I walked into the school auditorium for the first time beside Tabitha for their Christmas service.  That was near two years ago.

Time flies.  And it can take you anywhere.

In 2008, I was at New Mount Zion.  In 2009, I was at Second Presbyterian.  In 2010, I was at Hope Church.  In 2012, I joined Fellowship.  It’s amazing to relive, just for a moment, where I’ve trekked in life within the last half-decade.

Not even speaking in terms of churches, time can take you anywhere.

Out of relationships.  Past friendships.  Into new jobs.  An entirely new state of mind.

One of the things I’ve most enjoyed about this stage in my life is being open and willing to do anything and be anywhere.  Nine months into the OYC has marked a new stage.  A new chapter.  I can’t quite explain it, but it’s evident.  There’s an air of peace surrounding me.  My relationships.  My pursuits.

Somewhere along my timeline, moving on because less about moving on.  Moving on implies leaving “it” behind.  And “it” can be anything.  A disappointing friendship.  A disgruntled boyfriend.  A broken family.  Church hurt.  Any multitude of pains lay on the spectrum of “it.”

Scratch out on and replace it with forward and instead…you’re moving forward.  Moving forward is not as simple as leaving behind the hurt.  No.  Moving forward, instead, is taking one foot, placing it in front of the other—a continuation of steps along the path God divined for you, leaving behind not just the bad “it,” but maybe even the good.

A fault occurs when we let the god of comfort consume us, leaving us immobilized in a world suiting and satisfying what we can only see as our immediate needs when really our eyes should be cast toward the long-term.

We leave when we’re unhappy, but how willingly and how often do we push ourselves to move forward when we’re happy?  We miss out on higher levels of joy, too slow to release one gift to receive another.

Seasons just aren’t marked by the foul happenings of life, but by beautiful ones, too.  A lot of times we outgrow friendships, but are too stubborn in releasing them to realize God’s trying to give us new hearts to be ministered to or opportunities for new hearts to minister to us.  We outgrow dating relationships, but cling to “good” because we can’t see “great” around the corner.  We grow so comfortable in the NOW that NEW ain’t even in our peripheral—even thought that’s where God is directing us!  New experiences.  New relationships.  New opportunities.  New love.

Release yourself from the bonds and be open to taking one step forward, because you will never know what gift He has prepared for you in the next step unless you move forward and take it.

Day 278

I was young then.  I was different; my dreams were different.

Somewhere deep down inside of me there is a pit—no, a shell.

A shell so thin that the landmine inside is close to an overwhelming explosion.

Maybe it’s already happened.  I can't tell.

This is what reading The Hunger Games has done to me.  Ridiculous, I know, as I read my own words.  But God uses the smallest of things to ignite a wildfire.

The words of a fictional girl in the middle of a revolution detonated something.

Something strong, something unnerving, and something I didn't understand maybe until now.

Nine months of this challenge is complete.  Nine months for the first time in fourteen years I've been without a significant other.  And though the challenge is coming to end, I feel both hopelessly and recklessly like this is only the beginning of something else.  Another chapter in a book that I never necessarily wanted a part in.

But now there are two sides of me.  There is Jamie, the girl unsuccessfully holding on to the American dream that she never really quite wanted, and the girl who desperately wants to sacrifice everything to follow God.

Revolutions of the heart.

I fear to say that this is what this is.  A reconcilement of sorts, where I need to listen to God very carefully.

There is a reason I'm unsatisfied with the American dream, I think.

There's a reason for no college degree.

No career.

No family.

No husband.

You’re a Reason, not a Season, Jamie.

A reason I've been too afraid to admit to myself, until now.  Maybe I'm not meant for the American dream.  The white fence, the happy family, the stay at home mother with two children, the marriage to a man who loves me deeply.

It scares me to admit that the greater plan God may have for me includes nothing of that.  And that all of that, if I chose that path, would mean turning my back on God's ultimate dream for me.

But what is the ultimate dream, God?  The ultimate path You've chosen for my life?

There is an unanswered gnawing at my soul, but I don't know what to feast upon to ease it.  To subdue it, to satisfy it.  I feel as if I'm supposed to be somewhere, but where?  I feel a calling from the states, seeing as how it has never suited me much anyway, but where from here?  And doing what?

The unease in my soul is realizing that the ideals I grew up with—I have an almost too permanent feeling—are dreams and desires not meant to come to fruition.

And as I sit here tonight, another night alone in my apartment, this realization sits even heavier.

In the corners of my mind, I don't see myself being married.  I can't see a man who can partner with me—and not because there aren't great guys, but because it's not meant to be.  I don't see a man sacrificing his life for mine, his health for mine, his dream for mine.  I don't see a man who shares mine at all.  And I don't want that—I wouldn't marry anyone who does not share ideals with me, no, because our lives would be constant turmoil.  No, I want to follow God.

I admit to this now, because in the months to come I feel as if this gnawing is the only thing I will be holding onto.  As more couples form, as the loneliness grows, as I watch my friends marry, bear children, and be happy, what I expect for my life hits me more as a promise than a realization.

Maybe this challenge was God's way of easing me into this.  Maybe the next three months, the last quarter of the challenge, are not a challenge at all now, but an opportunity to meditate on these feelings and focus wholeheartedly on a different path.

God, you know me.  You know Your plans for me.  I can't say whether or not I'm going to be married.  Only You know that.  But what You've placed on my heart right now is both the greatest burden and excitement and fear and intrigue that I've ever felt.  Where the wheels on this train will take me, I have no clue.  You say follow You.  And to an unknown destination where everything I thought I knew, everything I thought I could predict or plan, that doesn't exist anymore.  Light in me a fire not doused by fear, but grown by it.  A soul set ablaze to follow You no matter what that means.  Change is so utterly exhausting.  I thought that my biggest change would come December of 2010.  And if that were the case, I'd be no better off than I was in that moment.  But You keep me, You shape me, You're reforming me.  Please just give me the heart, patience, and fortitude to grow with You, even if I don't know what that means or what it looks like.  I'm reminded of Follow You Into the Dark, with the lyrics vowing self-sacrifice, but there is no dark where there is light, and of all this, that is the only thing of which I am sure.

Day 247

“Do you think God is blinding you right now?” she asked.

It was a lazy Sunday afternoon, and we sat in the apartment pool.  Half-sunken in its cool depths, I ran my hand through the water, mulling over the answer.   The sun rippled in the undercurrent of waves, and I sat thoroughly soaking in this revelation.

In first grade, I experienced my first crush.  And ever since then, I've been hooked on love.  I had crushes all throughout elementary school and junior high, and beginning my sophomore year of high school I was never found without a boyfriend.  It was a constant cycle.

How odd that a girl who spent the majority of her life focused on the men in it should find herself without affection for the first time in decades.

Of the men I meet on a daily basis, none seem to peak my interest.  And I believe it is a mixture of God's provision and discernment.

I sense Him trusting me, releasing me to make the decisions I couldn't make before.  To tell men I know are not for me that I'm not interested—which is something I have never been able to do.  I mentioned in a past post that my self-esteem was once so low I thought I owed it to any man who lowered his standards enough to ask me, to date him.  That has definitely changed.

I find as the months continue that God places in my life two types of men.  The first being men I find physically attractive, but have not the passionate heart for God that I seek.  And the second is men who are seeking Christ fervently but lack the chemistry it takes to fuel interest in something more than a friendship.

Eight months.  Two types of men.  I think the challenge in itself is not being swept away by one or another but trusting in God for him to provide a man who is both on fire for Christ and lights a quiet fire in me.

And this is what I believe to be God's provision.  That He is indeed blinding me from a man who could potentially quench both flames while letting me exercise discernment.  At this stage, I know enough to know attraction is not the glue that holds a marriage together, and, also, that “you don't wake up to spirit,” according to Bryan, and, while that loving God is the most important of factors, it is not the sole determinant in finding a husband or a wife.

Weeks later, intrigued and curious, her question has remained on my mind.  I wondered how much of this hiatus from seeking and being sought was dumb luck and how much of it was God’s hand.  As I prepared for quiet time today, question still on my heart, I opened my Bible.  Isaiah was presented before me and my eyes read:

I nodded in understanding as I reread His words.  And the vision of all this has become to you like the words of book that is sealed.  When men give it to one who can read, saying, “Read this,” he says, “I cannot, for it is sealed” (Isaiah 29:11).

I'm not quite sure what's to come at the end of this challenge or who, if anyone, will be presented to me by our Father.  All I know is it's not meant to be known.

I'm more than halfway through my book and with only chapters left to go, to suppose its end now would be cheating myself.  God wants me to succeed, He's rootin' for me.  So, through this blindedness, I say I see more clearly than ever before in that I trust my Father wholeheartedly with what's to come.

I'm excited to see what He'll reveal and I know He's just as excited, watching from high, as I push forward, pursuing His will for my life.  And who knows, if there is a future husband out there, maybe God's watching as he does the same.