...Finding Peace

So there I was, the night before school started. I was thinking over what the next day might bring, trying to steel myself against the darkness I would be walking into. I was also thinking over the plot of The Lord of the Rings (which I had seen for the first time the day before), and how it illustrates so beautifully the fact that light always conquers darkness, no matter how powerful the darkness might seem.

I was in bed. Usually, at night, I tell myself a story to help me get to sleep. That night, however, God spoke to me. He said, "No, no, no. Tonight I'm telling you a story."
I was like, "Okay, that's pretty cool. What's it about?"

This is the story he told:
"Once upon a time, there was a little girl who lived in a field of flowers (He was talking about me). At a very young age, she decided who it was she would follow. She followed Him on a path through the field for a while. She mostly watched the path, but sometimes she would look up to the One she was following. Every time she did, she came a little closer to Him. Lately, however, she's been focusing too much on where she places her feet. She wants each footstep fits perfectly into each of His (me and my perfectionism. I'd never thought of it that way before). Instead, she needs to look up and focus on the One who is creating those footsteps which she is following."

He wasn't exactly saying everything. It was mostly communicated with pictures, with Him narrating every so often. Like the gentle rebuke of how the little girl needs to focus more on the One she is following.

So the story continued, with the two of us leaving the field of flowers behind. The landscape changed to something more hard and rocky.

Eventually, we came to the top of a ridge, overlooking a dark valley. Here we stopped, I came alongside Him, and He took my hand. We looked down into the valley, where our path was heading next.

The path led down a steep slope, twisting and winding its way to the valley floor. On the other side stood a tall mountain that was soaking in sunshine. The valley itself was full of darkness. There was no light. There was, however, a village. And it was the village that held Jesus' gaze. As we looked down on this dark place, He spoke once more, this time about the path that lay ahead.
"It will not be pleasant, but the people down there are worth meeting."

I felt good, then. Calm. Resolved. I knew Jesus would be with me every step of the way, and that the darkness down there would not consume me. I would reach the mountain that lay on the other side, and climb back up to the light. But I would not regret taking the hard path along the way. God would use me as a light down there where there was none. He would be working in me, ministering to people who needed to see that light.

I realize now that it doesn't matter what happens after that. My job is to be a light. If they join me on the path, so be it. If not, then I will still have accomplished what needed to be done.


Anyway, that was where the story ended that night. This week, however, God added a couple more details:

It was bedtime on Labor Day. School for the week was starting the next day, Tuesday. I would only be in school for three days, because I don't have any classes on Fridays. However, despite that fact, I was discouraged. I didn't want to get up to an alarm again, didn't want to go to school. I didn't want to spend the energy interacting with my classmates.

This was partially because I had just finished my last break from school until Thanksgiving. Something about the fact that there's no break mid-semester made me feel trapped. So, I didn't want to school.

God reminded me of the story of the journey. He brought me back to the place where we had left off: the top of the hill. He then skipped ahead a little.

"Now the girl is on the decent, climbing down boulders, still holding the hand of the One she is following. She's letting Him guide and help her down each and every boulder (each boulder represented one week at school). Sometimes she balks at the steep drop to the next one, but she just needs to keep her eyes focused on her companion, who promises to lead her safely through and never leave her side in the process."

It happened again a few days later, adding another detail for the part of the journey I was on at that time. The rock I was on was a particularly hard one to navigate. So he showed me a picture of him carrying me through while I hid my face in his shoulder.

So that is the story of the journey. These other details, as I've already described, weren't revealed until I needed them days later. However, the story of the journey was not the only one God told me that night before school started.

The next picture I saw was a single stone, a building block, sitting on the ground. It was at eye level, because I was standing in a big hole that was cut into a rock. The stone was on the edge of the hole. It was wet with rain, and the wind was blowing against it. This was the beginning of a building, a house. It was being built on the rock with the hole. The hole itself was the foundation for the house. It was deep and well made. It would well support the structure above it.

God told me that I had been digging this deep foundation during my childhood and teen years. While I was working, deep in the hole, I had been sheltered from the storm that was raging outside. Now, however, was the time to be exposed to it. The foundation was laid, and it was time to start building the house. That first stone was the time I had already spent in college. I was about to lay another. And even though the wind was growing stronger and the rain was falling hard, my house would not fail because of the good foundation it had.


It is probably easy to understand that I felt very confident after all that. First, the story of the journey, where Jesus never leaves my side. Then, the story of the house, where the work I have put into establishing my faith will help me build through the storm. This confidence I felt was not self-confidence. It was confidence that God would lead me safely through, keep all his promises, and take good care of me.

And he has. I saw evidence of that the very next day, and the day after that, and every day since. All my school work has been getting done in time, as if by magic. I often feel as if I'm not doing anything. I just listen for his voice telling me my next step.

When I surrender now, it is no longer a scary prospect. It is a joy, because I know what awaits me on the other side. I am no longer perfect, and no longer am I trying to be. The best part is, I no longer have any reason to worry or fret, because God is in control. The wind and waves still know his name. This faith that I have in his ability, and in his love for me, give me the peace for which I have been searching for so long. It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me.

I have lost my perfection. I have found His peace.

Losing Perfection...

Warning: this post is a long one :)

This past spring semester in college, I was going through school by myself, for myself. I've since discovered that not asking God for directions is the same as ignoring his directions. I also discovered that that system does not work. Sure, I was "successful" in the sense that I got A's in all my 5 classes, and I currently hold a 4.0 GPA. But who cares, really? In the process, I was the most stressed out that I've ever been in my life. I was so worried about a perfect performance in school, I couldn't see how stressed I really was.

I couldn't bring myself to let go of control. I had found a system that worked. I was getting good grades. I was prepared for virtually every class. I was always on time, and so were all of my assignments. All my homework was as complete and impressive as I could make it. All in all, I was the perfect student.

But...

I was by myself all the time. I couldn't hear God's voice when I wanted to, because I was ignoring it when I didn't. The people around me got so used to not having me around, it got to the point where I felt I was ignored by everybody once I was with them. I could see I was changing, and I didn't like who it was who was coming out. I wasn't helpful, I was tired. I wasn't compassionate, I was distracted. I wanted to have fun, but there wasn't time. When there was time, it wasn't fun. I never got a break.

So I retreated. I sunk down into myself, put up a brave front, and soldiered on.

And dreaded fall semester.

That dread went up and down during summer break. Dance camp reminded me that I was seen and irreplaceable both to God and to those around me. A visit from a childhood friend reminded me that I do have friends who understand me, and who I can be myself around. My brother came back from a 5-month YWAM DTS, so my family was once again complete. God put different systems in my life to help me let go of the perfection that drove every aspect in my life. They were simple things, like not making myself brush my teeth for exactly 2 minutes every night.

Through many different circumstances, and through many morning quiet times, God reminded me of who I am; who I really am. While he did that, he also showed me anew who he is. My grip on dread loosened as I realized that he would take care of me.

One specific example of this happened in July. We were scheduled to go on a camping trip to Yellowstone National Park. The night before we left, I fell ill. I got a 102°F fever, and I was really dizzy whenever I stood up. The next morning, while I was waiting to go to urgent care and get meds, the hymn It is Well popped into my head. I realized then that whatever happened to me, it was all going to be okay. God was in control, he would take care of me, and he would never leave me.

I ended up missing the first three days of the trip while I recovered. I didn't mind, though.

One more thing that was awful about spring semester: I couldn't find peace. That was implied, I suppose, but it was a big deal to me. The specific fact that I could not enter God's rest was devastating. I was kept away from something that is the right of all of God's children. But it was me keeping myself away from it. I could feel the truth of that. In the back of my mind, God was asking me to surrender control to him. But in the front of my mind, I could see that I was getting the results that I desired.

Whenever I considered completely surrendering control, I felt like I was on the edge of a cliff about to jump off. So I didn't.

Anyway, having the summer off really helped. I wasn't so stressed out, but that wasn't the same as having God's peace. I still had moments where I dreaded going back to school. The stress of spring semester was like a deep, black, swirling pit that waited to swallow me whole as soon as I let it.

But something God told me during Dance camp stuck with me all summer. Every time I faced that dread, he would tell it to me again. "What is in your past is not what I have planned for your future."
I also got a sense that I was supposed to wait. When the time came, he would present his solution.

That solution ended up being the same one that had been in the back of my head all of spring semester: surrender. Well, I did. I have. I am, and I will.

I surrendered during another camping trip, this one near Mt. Evans. It wasn't easy. It still felt like jumping off a cliff, at least until God intervened. He told me to read my poem Scales of Surrender, which you can find elsewhere in the Sunset Room.

When I read it, I felt free to let go of my offering, and take up the life of freedom. That way, it didn't feel like a freefall, it felt like an exchange. God told me to focus on what I was receiving, and let myself lose sight of what I was giving up.

That was about a week before school started back up again. Now, whenever I was worried about it (because I still was), I would surrender again. God would remind me that keeping up with school is not my responsibility anymore.

The story doesn't end there, because he did some really cool things the night before fall semester started. However, that post may well end up being almost as long as this one, so I'll put it to rest for now. Be watching for it.

I was going to name this post "Losing Perfection, Finding Peace." However, since the story is not quite finished yet, I'll leave off the other half until it is.