This blog is about comfort. As I write this there is beside me a new, black backpack. Inside that new, black backpack there is a new journaling Bible. To be honest, I’m not really happy about either of these new things. I’m not a sentimental person. I don’t get attached to things…usually. But, there are a few things in my life that I’m attached to. My backpack. It’s beautiful. It’s green. And it fits like a glove. No matter where I am, I am never without at least 2 books, Phase 10 cards, my hand sanitizer, a hair brush, and prayer cards. We’ve been through a lot together and despite the broken zipper and the strap that randomly comes loose, I’m attached. My bible. Tears, pain, joy, confirmation, and discovery-all these emotions we have shared. This Bible has been with my through this unimaginable journey of faith, brokenness, and growth that Lord has taken me on in the last year and a half. It’s falling apart, I have “rebound” it with liquid nail and “recovered” it with neon green duck tape. It’s my Bible-I’m attached. My Max. If you have played on a basketball or volleyball team with me in the past decade, you know Max. Max is my elephant. Yes, that’s right, I am 25 years old and still sleep with a stuffed animal. The days of telling all my problems to him are gone:: I have Jesus for that these days, but Max is my comfort. There is just something peaceful about laying down at night and cuddling up with my old pal that I love. He’s my Max-I’m attached.
I’m comfortable with these things-and these things aren’t bad-but God’s been going through my life and getting rid of my comfort zones. He’s been asking me to get uncomfortable, and in that, learn to find my comfort not in the things of this world, but in Him. With that, God’s been breaking down boxes in my life, boxes that I have put Him in, boxes that I have put His people in, and boxes that I have put myself in. While people associate me with these things: the girl with the green backpack: these things are not my identity. No-my identity is not found in any earthly thing. It’s not about what I wear, how I fix my hair, what awards I’ve won, where I work, or where I go to church. My identity is in Christ. I am a daughter of the King of Kings. The Risen Lord is my Savior and He has made me a new creation. He has washed me clean and I can go boldly before the throne of God because of what Christ has done in me, who he has made me. He has given me an assignment: Speak His name. Go and tell the world this Good News. But leave behind the “comforts.” So, I’m adjusting the fit and feel of a new backpack, a pack that will accompany around the world, and actually survive the journey. I’m reading from the new Bible and getting more comfortable with the pages and feel of it. This Bible will also survive the journey around the world, whereas my beloved green duct tape friend would leave a trail of pages. Max…well, His participation in the journey is yet to be determined, I don’t want him to pick up any incurable smells from around the globe. And I’m adjusting to this life of faith, this new identity that I have, not in the things I own or the things I’ve done, but in who Christ has made me.
