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.
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