I met my best friend in gym class my sophomore year of highschool. Kally. It was flag football day, and it quickly became apparent that we were both amped. Not a lot of sixteen year old girls love getting overly competitive in coed gym class on flag football day— but that was our bonding point. We quickly hit it off, and for the last eight years a deep friendship has blossomed, rooted and radiated so much meaning in my heart.
Tonight, we went to watch the sunset over Lake Michigan. It’s not an uncommon thing for us to do; but as we pulled in, I knew this was going to be spectacular. While we were driving to the beach, I was catching her up on training camp, processing through ways the Spirit has been moving in my heart, telling her about my squad and speaking of huge fears I’m encountering. And too, I was listening and catching up on her life. We were both speaking with excitement, but also the weight of tiredness and fear. As we pulled into the parking lot, the sun was peaking through thick clouds. We had about forty five minutes until sunset.
For too long, I’ve believed I needed to be strong, self-sufficient. I’ve always been strong willed. But, in my strength, I know I am more sensitive than strong. At training camp, God further revealed that what I am is afraid. Afraid to be fully seen, fully known, fully loved. I’m afraid to let go of control and trust Him/others to fulfuill my needs. I’m afraid of vulnerability. Over the years, I’ve seen strong walls fall as God’s love restores and touches my heart. Intimacy has been born and growing in my relationship with God; my heart is beating more veraciously than ever before in my identity as daugher of Christ. God has brought me to places of surrender to experience His freedom. Yet, still, there are walls around my heart. Will I contend with partial life? Will I suffice to the measure of the walls I haven’t seen, the grace I haven’t yet received, the healing I am invited to. The blurriness of my morning eyes begins to rub away in God’s love, the love of intimacy and of community—deeper invitations to the fullness God offers.
In entering this new season of very intentional, vulnerable community I’m shaking off the lie that love is scary. I know God is to be trusted; in my depths I know He will never fail. Ever. But in my horizontal relationships, can I say the same? Do I instantly put a guard up? How much does this bleed into my love for the Divine, for self, for family, for friends, for strangers? How much does this impact my ability to be obedient or even hear the expanse of God’s invitations?
God created a vast garden within my spirit, yet I am reserved to share its beauty. God gently beings me deeper into His love while whispering: “I am here with you. I have been here the whole time. I will stay here with you; when you are ready, invite me deeper”
In endless confirmation, I see God’s goodness. I see He simply wants to nurture me—to hold me, fill me, celebrate and grow me. He dances over me, and I feel His vitality in that. He confirms that in the journey I am never alone, that I’ve never been alone. He confirms that canyons in my spirit have been and will be filled by His great light. Each time I sit by the big lake, I think of the glacier that once carved this beauty.
I sense a deep hope growing in my spirit. In His intimacy, I feel seen. I am known, and God continues to teach me just who that is. The more deeply I know myself, my brokenness, vices, strengths and redemption, the more I know of His love. In His love, I feel secure. Anew. I feel my heart beating strongly in my chest, the air moving through my lungs.
God is showing me further that His love is seen through the grace of the imperfect. God continues to remind me that His body, and the people we interact with are ultimately an extension of His love. My brothers and sisters in Christ offer a love I cannot receive anywhere else. My patient at the hospital last night offered an insight to God’s love I didn’t know before. My family offers a role and love for my heart that only they can. Worship in community offers glorification that is only unique to those people of Christ.
After Kally and I pulled into the beach tonight, we both became suddenly emotional about the changing seasons and the thought of daily life without one another. In honest, tear-filled, vulnerable conversation, Kally spoke God’s truth over me. We were able to speak truth over each other. Sisters in Christ, friends who know each other’s hearts— the gift of vulnerabilty was the love of community in these priceless moments. These moments of revelation brought such new awareness to God’s endless authority in my spirit.
At times it is easy to feel misunderstood, or alone in something. But in gentleness, we are embraced endlessly. God’s love is pure and shines through the imperfect. It is to be trusted. In this simple, but divinely radical night, I am reminded that community is the extension of God’s love; it is the church. Courage over fear, love over independence.
Tonight we missed the sunset, but during the afterglow of summer solstice, the lightest day of this year, we walked down to the water, found a place to sit and prayed together in the rawness of God’s presence. Vulnerability and redefining truth through community are extensions of God’s vast love. God is near, we don’t need to be afraid, we are never alone.
