Yesterday I was alone for two hours. Absolutely alone.
It was my day off, and the rest of my team decided to go into town to eat, use the internet, shop, etc. Thus, leaving me at the house, again, ALONE, for two whole hours before the rest of the squad got back.
These two hours were incredible. I think it was the first two hours since January 4th that I could not see or hear another person within 15 feet of me. It was much needed and it was really sweet time with the Lord.
I was able to verbally, vocally, pour my heart out to Him. I was able to walk around the house and yard talking and praying—out loud. I was able to pray for my team, out loud, in tongues, without feeling like an idiot. I sang to Him and I twirled with Him. The Lord spoke to me and I was able to rejoice and praise Him through dancing in the front yard. It was an incredible time, and one of the most free times I have had with the Lord over the last few months. But at the same time—something was missing.
What was it? I realized as I sat back down on the front porch after about an hour and a half of alone, concentrated time with the Lord, that it was quiet—too quiet. I started to feel very alone, lonely, off. I started to realize that after only an hour and a half, I was missing people, missing my community. I was alone, lonely. It was weird being without them.
Then I realized that all the freedom I had experienced in praying and worshipping by myself, was freedom that I should also be experiencing when I am praying and worshiping among 26 other people. I recognized how the fear of man was hindering how I come to the Lord. When really, that is how my prayers and worship should look even when I am with the body, this community.
So basically, I can’t figure myself out anymore, even though I kind of can. I can see what the Lord is doing and changing, but am a little dumbfounded by it all. I yearn to be alone, but as soon as I am, I am lonely. I love my community here more than I realized, and really recognized it when I was without them for two hours. Two measly hours. But att he same time, I am still fighting the battle of wanting to be completely wrecked and free before the body, while still holding onto bits of that fear of man.
I feel like I am in limbo between two people. Who I was and who I want to be. A slave to the law versus being free in the Spirit. Back and forth, my flesh versus my Spirit. Wanting to be alone, yet loving never being alone. Trying to hide things, yet excited that I can’t among this body. It is incredible. It’s exhilarating. It’s baffling.
Two hours. Two hours I thought I wanted. Two hours the Lord definitely used. Two hours that showed me I have no idea who I am anymore. But two hours that He showed me who I want to be—how He intends this body to look—this community. Two hours.
