How I Lost God From Amsterdam to Israel

The enemy likes to weave tangled lies of deception in our minds. It began ‘harmless‘ enough with me- a thought of needing ‘more‘ to answer the questions people had than the simple ‘christian‘ answers we so readily give. I was growing dissatisfied with my faith, and I didn’t see the destruction that was coming.

I started asking God more questions, thinking I would gain more revelation and understanding. The more people countered my knowledge and understanding, the more I dove deeper. It seemed like these new age, buddhist, muslim, athiests had some points that I hadn’t thought about before. I was becoming undone, and confusion was creeping ever so slowly in.

Somewhere, I lost my childlike faith in Papa. I lost the sweet innocence and the knowledge that Holy Spirit can move with my simple, illogical answers. Because they come straight from him, because he is my source, and my dependence and assurance is always in him, the simple answers I gave never bothered me before. In fact, they were a source of great joy. I found joy in being able to say I didnt have all the answers and how awesome is it we have such a big, mind blowing God.

Imagine one day just enjoying the beauty and freedom and love in God’s presence, then waking up and knowing in an instant its gone. I immediately jolted up and asked God where he went. I knew he was watching, but I knew his presence wasnt there. I started analyzing everything I did, praying and worshipping and trying to figure it out. But he stayed distant… and into the valley I went.

I got pretty sick in amsterdam. I was out a whole week- stuck in bed. It broke me. All the questions I had, all the questions they had. Healing going unanswered. Scriptures that didnt make sense and made me actually dislike God. Not living in his presence.

I was dying.

I burnt out quickly. God is gracious, and he still worked through me. Why he does that blows my mind. His goodness in unwavering despite my weakness.

I couldnt get my visa extended for the human trafficking training, and to be honest, I wasn’t sure I wanted it to. I was tired- not the type of tired that can be fixed by resting body and mind. It was soul tired. Spirit tired.

I felt like maybe I was supposed to go back to the states, but I didn’t. I still had questions that I wanted answers for. One of the women I worked with had just come from our sister hostel in Israel. The thought stuck, and i ended up flying there for 11 days.

11 days of trying to find my way. 11 days of wondering if I would ever find God again. 11 days of emotional rollercoasters.

I met some incredible women on my journey: A german woman (who loved Jesus) named Doris, who took me trekking into the desert mountains. The same mountains Moses and the Israelites wandered for 40 years. The same desert John the Baptist lived his life in. I felt a hint of God’s romance in the desert. A hint of the beauty that comes from barren places. Doris encouraged me to make the most of every moment- to live without reservation and to live with abandon.

I met a woman named Sarah, who was a british born, muslim palestinian woman. Their family held the deeds to land in the West Bank. This old fiesty woman was a wonder to be around. She walked and talked like royalty. The days I went out and explored with her were the days where most of my stories will come from. Things always happened wherever she went. She was strong, and she encouraged me to be more adventurous. The questions returned being around her, but so did some of my spirit. In some ways, she reminded me of who I was.

I met Jan. An australian Lutheran who was a chef by profession. She was on a solo adventure without her husband around the middle east and europe. Jan was a spunky gal. One who, in some ways, reminded me of a teenager. Jan was on a quest for something more in life. She started investing in other religions, finding the good in all of them. One of the last days I had with Jan, she looked me in the eyes, pleading with me to tell her why Jesus was the only way. In my heart of hearts, I was broken. I realized I had gotten so far away that I couldn’t give my answer without wondering myself why. As I opened my mouth to speak, I was surprised at the truth that came out. The truth…that spoke to that place of doubt- reminding my own spirit that Jesus really is the ONLY way.

I met more interesting people…the broken palestinian radical who i knew would die for his freedom, the american soldier on the bus named bryan who was sick of war and scared at what lies ahead, the jewish man who I was hesitant to trust in the market until I looked back and saw Jesus in his eyes, the precious woman in the hostel in Eilat named Mary- who spoke into the fears we had at returning to America….who, through her own fears, reminded me-us- that God is with us always.

Israel was quite the adventure. And I saw a lot. I saw the injustice at the jewish-arab conflict on both sides. I stood in front of armed soldiers at a wall- a wall that symbolizes hatred and fear. I trekked through the desert, floated in the dead sea, beheld the beauty of the land, whispered songs about Jesus in the streets, met crazy people, was harrassed by officials in the airport multiple times- barely got in and barely got out, saw a dove fly over the people at the wailing wall, and sat in my hostel when it rained just worshipping him..surrendering again.

It took me four flights and all of my dad’s sky miles to get back to the states. I surprised some of my best friends at the beach. I didn’t have much time on the flights to think, seeing as how I had a few hours of sleep in 2 days of chaos and I switched planes so much.

It’s weird to be back in the states. Im going through reverse culture shock again.

Looking back, I realize I was the wayward daughter. I squandered the inheritance from my father.. quite literally.

I went out on a search, and I’ve come home bruised and broken.

Im finding God again.

And he says I never really left, that he had me the whole time.

Because he’s good like that.

I felt so much shame at my questions. I still do honestly.

The shame is slowly melting. I saw Jesus’s eyes again. Full of intensity. Full of love, power, hope, healing.

Im still in a valley, not seeing where Im going..feeling lost. Yet, I know God is fiercely fighting for me… because I saw his eyes. Eyes that spoke of complete love and forgiveness. Eyes of promise.

Im in a process. My faith was greatly shaken, and my faith will greatly return.

My relationship is very different now. I dont want him anymore just for the sake of being able to give in ministry. I dont want him anymore just to fill legitimate needs and desires i have.

Im sick of prostituting the one I love.

I just want him.

So Im returning to my first love. The next few months, I will be resting- spirit resting- with my beloved. I need time with him. What lies ahead…I dont know. I feel some major change. So Im waiting. And learning to truly be.

He’s breathing new life into my dead soul.

Im being resurrected.

I’m seeing the Son shine again.

And I know- without ANY doubt….

and he is mine.