So it’s been six months. Six months since home. Six months since family. Six months since the 9 to 5. Six months since my bed. Six months since continual comfort. Six months since normal. Six months since my life was turned upside down. With all the things that I have seen, worked through, and given up I think I had expectations. I thought I would be selfless. I thought I would be humble. I thought I would have unbreakable faith. I thought I would be more gentle, more kind, more loving. I thought I wouldn’t be insecure anymore and I would no longer struggle with things that have held me back for years. I thought I would be free from people pleasing and being self degrading. I thought I would be a genuine Christian with Kingdom dreams.I thought I would be truly “living”. On certain days I think these things are true. I can be all of these things and have definitely experienced growth in many of these areas, but definitely not always.
It all comes down to a choice. Me or Him.
This past month I have been faced with many “me or Him” moments. When I felt like a disappointment to people we are serving and unable to meet expectations. Do I choose anger because I view things as unfair? Or grace and understanding for the other individuals involved in the situation? When I am tired and missing home and wishing I could just have a night in my bed with no one else in my room. Do I choose to be irritated, short, and sarcastic with my team? Or do I choose to share where I’m at and allow them to encourage me in my struggle? When I feel overwhelmed with teaching english and making lesson plans and games. Do I choose to disengage and isolate myself into the victim circle? Or do I choose to recognize how much work we have put in together and be grateful for my team being by my side in this journey? When I wake up tired and feel off. Do I choose to zone out and watch a movie? Or intentionally spend time with God and tell him about how I’m feeling?
Unfortunately in all of these situations above I chose myself first every single time. This month has been frustrating, angry, disappointing, tiring, and just overall difficult. Each time I’ve reached this point I would complain about how I’m feeling. But the fact of the matter is that they are MY feelings. I chose them. I chose me. It’s easy to overlook that. It’s easy to blame those feelings on the other person involved or on the situation. I don’t like to admit that it is me who has minimal self control over my emotions. That it’s me who chooses myself over others, but it’s just the truth.
Galatians 2:20 “It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me.”
Thankfully the Father is a God of grace and love. I think for awhile I was saying that about him because that is just what people told me he was, but in each of these moments he has gently nudged me and reminded me how His Son chose Me. He chose me over remaining in heaven with His Father. He chose me so he could selflessly make a way for me to know His Daddy personally. Each time he has brought me to my knees in humility with the way He so diligently pursues me. Instead of condemning me for ignoring him, he invites me to sit at his feet and tell him about my hurt, about my family, about my life. He fills my heart with how much he loves me and forgets about how I hurt him just minutes before. He woo’d me to the point where I no longer mindlessly say he is full of grace and love. He showed me. I heard and felt him each time.
Every time I open my eyes to the way God shows me he loves me I no longer feel like I have to choose him. I want to. I want to choose to extend grace, and show vulnerability. I want to be thankful and intentionally choose to spend time with the God who so desperately wants to spend time with me. I want to die to self and surrender to the Christ who lives in me. When I choose Him thats when I am truly living.
So its been six months. Six months of pursuit. Six months of brokenness. Six months of tears. Six months learning about His love. Six months of falling on my face. Six months of choosing myself. Six months to die to myself. Six months to live.
