God asked me to “let go” in Cambodia.
“Jen, can you just rest in Me? Can you drop the distractions? Can we go back to who you are without all your “stuff” in the way? Will you let your leaves fall, and walk with me into winter of the heart? I want you to know who you really are in Me.”
One small “yes, Lord”, and the journey began…
We were on a prayer walk with the kids from the orphanage a week or so ago, and this one girl kept pressing to be near me. Her voice chattered in excitement, asking me question upon question. The sun above us seemed to melt sanity away, with her persistence edging on me. I found myself grasping my water bottle tightly, keeping my hands occupied so that she couldn’t hold them. The thoughts in my head said, “She’s being clingy, and I feel so claustrophobic and I’m extremely hot. Why does she always have to be all over me…?”
God stopped me mid-thought. I was caught off guard by my selfishness.
The following morning, that same girl was there waiting at the gate of the orphanage when my team arrived. A huge smile spread across her face while she joyfully exclaimed, “Good morning, I miss you,” in broken English. I barely caught her words, as my attention was elsewhere. Selfishness spat in my ear again, “Don’t rub your head too close to hers when she hugs you, because she has lots of lice.” I stepped out of the tuk-tuk (Asian taxi), and allowed her to put her arms around me, all the while keeping a considerable distance from her head.
Once again, I felt God nudging, “You’re coming to the end of yourself, Jen.”
That night I sat with my teammate Maria, and explained my failure to love selflessly. I suppose it took the ridiculousness of not wanting to hug an orphan for it to hit me: I am really really selfish. Something gross peeled back from my eyes and without much warning the selfishness was everywhere. It was in my conduct when I withheld love, and my thoughts and words where hate was spewed. It was leached onto my heart, and sucking away at life. It was inky, and venomous, and repulsive. Ew.
When I said “yes” to God at the beginning of Cambodia, I didn’t expect “letting go” to look like this, and while I’m being brutally honest, I’ll admit that it’s not what I wanted. I thought I was setting aside my phone, and some of my comfort for a nice little walk of abandonment, but God wanted more.
“For you will not delight in sacrifice, or I would give it; you will not be pleased with a burnt offering. The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit; a broken and contrite heart, O God, you will not despise…Have mercy on me, according to your steadfast love; according to your abundant mercy, blot out my transgressions. Wash me and I shall be whiter than snow.” Psalm 51:16-17, 1, 7b ESV
This time of year in Ohio the autumn leaves have nearly all fallen. The world is lying open in vulnerability. Dry air fills the lungs, and chills you straight to the bone. Hundreds of trees stand barren, casting skeleton like shadows onto the empty earth. I like to view winter as a mean old man that comes to steal the vibrancy of life, but God is intentional in everything he creates.
So. Where is the Creator in winter?
When I stop and listen, I hear him in the silence. He calls my name with every swirling snowflake that falls from above; he washes me white, when the rust of my year burns red. All the selfishness, and the pride, and the ugly creatures that have nested in the branches of my heart are cast out by the cold. Winter’s snowy blanket clothes me with identity, for I am most me wrapped in the love of Christ. I am reminded that always, “my neediness for God is my honor and not my shame” (JD Gravitt).
“Wash me and I shall be whiter than snow.”
Winter has invited me home to hope. I know I’m on the World Race, and I’m a missionary, and I’m supposed to be loving people perfectly, but I don’t…AT ALL. I struggle with hugging orphans. Clearly your sister has a few issues. I’ll admit that it’s been scary to “let go”. It’s not natural to feel safe naked, but I urge you to walk in vulnerability with God. It’s the only place you can see yourself for who you truly are: Guilty of a mess, but washed white by His grace, and love.
Come winter!
**If you’re wondering why God has my heart in a season of winter, while I’m living in 90+ degree heat…I got nothing either. He’s a dork sometimes.
