It’s a weird feeling knowing I’ll be gone in 3 months.
Knowing I’ll be half way across the globe for nearly a year as life goes on without me here.
See, September through July looks like a blank space in my head. I can see everything pretty clearly until September. I can imagine life after the race, settling back into America, its comforts, its hot showers. But the Race itself is a complete anomaly to me at this point. I don’t know what to expect. I don’t know what to imagine or what to think will happen.
I don’t know.
I’m raising money, answering questions, writing blogs, and I don’t know what the heck any of it will be like. All my answers seem vague and open-ended, like they lack the true heart necessary to believe them. But I don’t know where to find that heartbeat.
Here’s the picture I’ve gotten. I’m in this room. We’ll call it the America room. And in this room are all my favorite things, all the things that bring me comfort, all the things that I love. There’s a door in this room, but it’s locked for now so I can’t get out. It’s not that I am banging on the door to get out because I hate my room-it’s that I want to know what’s outside.
But there’s another factor. See, Jesus is in this room with me. And I am terrified that he wants me to trust him more, to lean on him more, to learn intimacy with him.
Because even in the midst of all my comforts, I am still not completely comfortable with my Jesus.
It terrifies me to open up my heart to him. To let him have full control. To give him the keys and never look back. So I sit in the room, wishing I was anywhere but there, all the while knowing that if I can’t be confident and comfortable in the presence of Jesus and all the blessings he’s given me here, how on earth will I not break down in fear (the bad, constricting kind) and trembling when that door is unlocked?
The Lord Is My Shepherd
A Psalm of David.
23
The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.
He makes me lie down in green pastures.
He leads me beside still waters.
He restores my soul.
He leads me in paths of righteousness for his name’s sake.
Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,
I will fear no evil, for you are with me;
Your rod and your staff,
They comfort me.
You prepare a table before me
In the presence of my enemies;
You anoint my head with oil;
My cup overflows.
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me
All the days of my life and I shall dwell
In the house of the Lord
Forever.
The Lord lead me back to this psalm a couple weeks ago, in the middle of a crazy week. I thought it was a momentary thought-“Hannah, I am your stillness, I am your peace.”
And then again, when peace seemed to flee, he lead me beside still waters and restored my soul. I wondered how people could live their whole lives without the constant reassuring peace of the Lord. It boggled my mind.
But here’s this: I still don’t know true peace, because I won’t let myself. I won’t let those last few layers fall away, because I like them there; a safety net I won’t let down. Replace peace with any fruits of the Spirit: love, joy, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control: all of those are simply temporary growth; my heart a rocky soil, with no depth to sustain life.
The Lord Is My Shepherd
A Psalm of Hannah.
23
The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want (because I can provide for myself)
He MAKES me lie down in green pastures (for 15 minutes only, and I’m lying here begrudgingly)
He leads me beside still waters
He restores my soul (momentarily, gonna need another walk in a few days)
He leads me in paths of righteousness for his (my) name’s sake
Even though I walk through the valley of shadow and death
I fear no evil, for you are with me (you’ll be there whether I let my walls down or not)
Your rod and your staff, they comfort me (among other worldly things)
You prepare a table before me (I am unimpressed and prideful)
In the presence of my enemies (but I’ll use you as a back up plan if things go sour)
You anoint my head with oil (do I let you?)
My cup overflows (does it?)
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me
All the days of my life
And I will dwell in the house of the Lord
Forever.
That’s my version right now. Pretty ugly and selfish, huh?
I wish I could accurately describe the state of my heart as I sit writing this, hearing this. It’s something like a dam that has a crack in it, and the crack is growing. You can hear the weight of all that water begging and pleading to make it’s way past the wall. The dam is doing it’s best to stay put, but the pressure it’s under to too great. It will collapse, it’s just a matter of when. My dam hasn’t let go yet. It’s a sizeable crack, and I can feel it in my chest. It’s holding on with all its might.
So if you’re reading this and would like to pray God’s love can finally get through the dam I’ve built, please do so. Maybe pray that I’ll be brave enough to take a sledgehammer to it to help things along.
He is graceful and giving and loving. And he loves me so much that he has shown me this, and has put a passion in my heart to be nearer to him, even when I’m scared to, even when the trust doesn’t come easy.
I want to know his love in a way I’ve never known it before, and that requires full reliance on him and zero reliance on myself. I want deep, nutritious soil that gives life to all good things. I want an intimate, fully-trusting relationship with my Heavenly Father. And this is just the beginning of that process. Excitement and terror are equally involved, and uncertainty is absolutely certain. Control will be lost, and love will flood in.
Love will flood in.
There’s my heart.
-Hannah
Shepherd, Bethel Music
In the process
In the waiting
You’re making melodies over me
And your presence
is the promise
For I am a pilgrim on a journey
You will lift my head above the mighty waves
You are able to keep me from stumbling
And my weakness
you are the strength that comes from within
Good shepherd of my soul
Take my hand and lead me on
