Flashback to 5 ½ months ago.
I’m walking down the street in the Philippines to an ATM. My squad leader and I are talking about life and the fact that I’m actually on the World Race [fun fact: it’s been 5 ½ months now and I still have to remind myself that I’m on the Race almost daily. It’s so normal that it’s never going to be normal]. Through some turns of conversation, the question gets asked: Why don’t you trust God?
The next morning I sat in my hammock with my journal, letting that question float through my mind again. I started walking backwards through my life, pinpointing the moments that had convinced me that God wasn’t trustworthy anymore.
An internship rejection.
A boss’s resignation.
Failed relationships.
Manipulation.
Untimely deaths.
Depression.
Self-hatred.
Rejection.
Loss of friendships.
Knee injuries that began tainting every soccer practice and game I’d attend.
The loss of a game I loved.
The list went on and on. I sobbed as I remembered things from my past, not because I was remembering those things but because I was just now realizing the way I had let them chip away and wreck what I thought was such a strong foundation of faith. I wrote for hours to the Lord, journaling out each stand-out event, circumstance or relationship and how it had unknowingly taught me that God couldn’t be trusted. Faster than expected, 5 AM turned into 8 AM and I heard the house springing to life with the sounds of my entire squad grabbing breakfast and preparing to start ministry. Three hours later and I was still in the middle of a mess – possibly a bigger mess than I had started with – and now I had to start my day from this place. And you know what God had to say about that?
Be still. Let Me fight for you.
For 24 hours, I sat still and I saw the way He pursued me. Through countless of my squad mates (who had no idea what they were doing or how vital these conversations were), He confronted every situation that had convinced me He wasn’t trustworthy and He showed me the ways that He had redeemed them. He was beginning to pull me back into a place of full trust, a place where my BS foundation of trust would be shattered and rebuilt by HIS hands.
I know you. Trust Me.
Fast forward to present day. I’m sitting in a coffee shop in Durban, South Africa overlooking the Indian Ocean. I’m listening to the sound of waves crashing against the rocks being interrupted by the clinking of coffee cups and murmurs of conversation around me. I’m reading emails, scrolling Facebook, talking to dear friends in all kinds of places and working to continue on in Unsung Heroes duties. I’m journaling the things that each bring up: the questions, the praises, the frustrations.
I decide it’s a listening prayer kind of day and I write the names of all 8 of us on separate sheets of paper. I fold down the names so I can’t see them, and that afternoon I sit before the Lord and ask what needs to be written. That evening I hand them to each of my teammates and my squad leader, and I tuck the one bearing my name into my journal to look at after dinner.
I pull out my journal and begin trying to write out the events of my past 24 hours. I’m sorting out thoughts brought on by messages read and not yet responded to, emotions brought on by other people’s opinions and perceptions, and worries, excitements and anxieties about the idea of the future that waits for me in 6 months from now. And you know what God has to say about it? It sounds pretty familiar.
Be still. Let Me fight for you.
I took a deep breath in and exhaled as the tears rolled down my cheeks. He called me back to those hours spent in a hammock in the Philippines and reminded me of where we started this part of the journey together…and where the past 5 months have taken us: places of beauty and brokenness, places of struggle and surrender, places of deeper trust and stronger faith. I laid my pen down and decided to see what I had unknowingly written for myself during my listening prayer party with the Lord just hours ago. The tears that were slowly rolling down my cheek turned into a continuous stream as I unfolded the paper and the words sprung to life.
I know you.
I know your heart and your desires. I know what I have created you for. When what’s to come is overwhelming, look up. Look to me, because I know you. I can be trusted – release the burden of distrust and step into new, beautiful places of trust and reckless abandon.
I know you. And I love you…not in spite of knowing you, but because I know you.
I know you. Trust Me.
I let the words wash over me time and time again and I was reminded of one of my favorite names of God: El Roi. God who sees.
El Roi –
God who sees me,
my heart,
and my needs…
right where I’m at.
God who saw me in the Philippines as a daughter longing to be able to trust her Father again.
God who has seen me at every stage of the Race, learning to trust Him, to enjoy Him, to embrace Him, and to run free after Him.
God who sees me now and hands me gentle reminders of his love and trustworthiness daily.
God who sees and knows and loves me all the same.
