Church on Max Patch
I’ve woken up desperate before. This blanket of fog in my mind felt familiar. It had been over four years since I couldn’t find two thoughts and put them together. “Where do you want to go eat tonight?” The question was simple enough, but I couldn’t figure it out. Did I even want to go out tonight? I tried helplessly to think of more than one restaurant. I eventually said we can figure it out later and escaped the few people vying for my attention to be alone in my car. I didn’t want to be rude, but I couldn’t think for myself let alone answer to any more social demands.
As I sat in my car I thought back to training camp. It was sweet, but for the most part I wanted it to be over. About midway through the 8 days, some untouched wounds started to surface. I thought God and I had agreed I wasn’t ready for these ones. I thought I could get a break from soul surgery for the rest of the year.
It makes sense why they sprung up at training camp; the Holy Spirit was so thick and active it was impossible not to walk in His power. Imagine it: an omnipresent God on a campus with so many hearts unlearning, relearning, and walking through their heart-gardens hand in hand with the Creator. Over 300 hearts begging God to move. At one point during a worship session, I saw the Holy Spirit like colorful wind moving all over the room. It was constant; it wasn’t just during the worship sessions.
My friends, it is not possible to sit in the presence of God and come out unchanged. He is holy, therefore you will be holy. You cannot sit in His throne room and expect to be the same person when you walk out. You will walk out royalty. It’s in His beautiful mercy that you are changed. He wants you to walk in your calling. From death to life.
On Wednesday I cried all day. I desperately wanted these wounds to stay buried – at least for a little while longer. I knew I would have to deal with them eventually but training camp seemed like the worst place for them to surface. I’m an introvert-extrovert, and while I love meeting people and I love being in community, dealing with trauma in an environment where I couldn’t process alone and in my usual comfort, and with over 30 new people on top of each other, felt suffocating.
So I numbed out. I pushed passed my pain, knowing training camp was temporary, and kept going. It followed me like a heavy, black fog that would catch up eventually. I took the space I needed when I could. When training camp was over, I was hoping I would get a chance to process but the road trip I had planned following tc with a couple of my squad mates was equally draining.
The day after we left training camp, my friends and I decided to go to Max Patch and camp. My body was on fire from lots of exercise and little to no sleep, but I would do it all over again. With my heart pounding in my chest, and my lungs burning, I focused on putting one foot in front of the other as I hiked yet again with my big pack strapped to my back. This time with less weight, and for fun, I was ready to get to the top of Max Patch. I had never felt this level of physical exhaustion, but getting to the top was dreamlike.
Friends, ask me about this road trip. There was so much packed in that I won’t share on this blog to save space. It was life-giving more than it was draining, and if I didn’t have trauma bubbling just below my ability to numb it, it would have been the best time of my life.
Additionally, I love my squad. They are loud, rowdy life givers and I am beyond excited to spend the next year with them. Call me and ask me about training camp. It was pure, honest and sweet. I saw visions. I got words and I was given words. We are 30 people all taking hold of the power and promises of the living God. There will be mighty things done in the Kingdom. And I can’t wait to see it 🙂
My heart, though, was tired from a year of deep soul mending. It’s a comfort I keep going back to: Jesus in the garden of my heart, tilling and pruning. I know He was there at camp when my wounding made it hard to breathe. I know He was in the garden, and I know He was in the sun sinking on my face when I was desperate to be free. Oh, how much easier it would be if I didn’t have all these wounds. But I can’t help but feel deeply intimate with Jesus; when I don’t want anyone to talk to me or to touch me, or to be around me, He’s there in the most vulnerable space digging deep and pulling out, making beauty from my pain. What a comfort.
On the same day I was struggling to come up from my wounding, I was presented with an opportunity to say ‘yes’ to be trained to facilitate a ministry while on the race called Beauty for Ashes. I, as well as 7 other women on my team, would be trained on how to teach the curriculum and to host women’s retreats. The ministry focuses on inner healing in women. This world has abused me, beat me up and treated me like I didn’t matter. But Jesus has held me and redeemed me, and now I am no longer the world’s victim, but the King’s daughter. I stand tall in authority. You best believe I said yes to this opportunity. And you best believe I will give everything I have to pour Jesus out like healing water over tired women.
As I hiked to the top of Max Patch, I couldn’t help but see this parallel to life. I realized that getting to the top of this mountain felt like a spiritual accomplishment. I spent everything I had to get to the top; every amount of physical energy I had, every ounce of faith I had to keep going despite the pain swelling in my chest, and all the emotional energy I had left to just keep it together.
It’s Sunday now. Four days since I got back from tc/my road trip. I slept and cried all afternoon yesterday. It still feels like I’m on the top of Max Patch, beholding the glory of a fresh day, but breathing labored breaths from her climb, knowing that I still need to hike back to the bottom. I know that as I put one foot in front of the other, and make my way back down, Jesus will be there as faithful as always, waiting to pull me in. Waiting to say, “well done.”
