Wednesday, July 25,2012

Wednesday, July 25,2012

Something drew me to follow the crumbs back to the early days this morning, going back to my first blog I had written (or the last place I remember writing). The blog is on a completely different platform, and after stumbling my way through finding out how to look at all the older posts, I found myself back at the very beginning- Wednesday, July 25, 2012.

Everything was to be expected. At the time I was in furniture sales (a position I didn’t love but was scared to leave), I talked about going on walks through nature (something I genuinely did love but even more so loved how ‘curated’ saying that felt), and talked about my diet consisting of water, coffee, and whatever I baked whenever I baked (a cute way of saying I was bound to body dismorphia and had a terrible relationship with food).

Its hard to read back through. Not because of anything that is said, but because of the actuality of what I didn’t say- because I couldn’t say it. I was sort of sleeping my way through it in total denial.

But thats not where it all ends. That’s only sentences one through five.

But then in the middle of the mess lies sentence six.

Precious, precious sentence six.

Sharing verbatim because it matters:

“I have big dreams of writing a book & being a part of God’s work in reuniting his daughters’ bond & unity.”

And a little further down:

“I long to be used by Him in greater ways than my own mind can imagine. I am currently on an adventure, searching for a place to belong. A church family I can call home,… a job I can call my joy, a family of friends I can call my encouragement. I long to know and be known by my Father more every day I can. He is my peace, my hope, and my home.”

Yesterday my parents came over. My mom snuck her way into the living room to talk to the little ones, but my dad hung back, placing himself in the corner of the kitchen. He told me how in the script for what my brother said as he performed my mom and dad’s vow renewal, right in the middle, lay the idea that at the beginning of their marriage, there was nothing to cling to other than faith that God will come through. But now, 35 years later, there is evidence.

I didn’t know why he was sharing it with me. I’m not even sure he even knew other than to get my mind working through that. But then this morning came and I was aroused to look back in reflection to find exactly this: the evidence.

I longed. I’ve told people I’ve longed. Anytime I talk about what the Lord has done through our women’s ministry I connect it to how the whole thing is a seed that was sown in my heart since I was too young to even understand what it was. I know it’s not about me, and I know it’s not mine, but it is sacred and breathlessly beautiful thing that I can’t even put into words. It’s a seed that I threw that happened to bare roots, that the Lord even saw worthy of watering.

I wrote that book. I serve women and I’m seeing the fruit of deeper connections and unbreakable, understood unity. I have been used by Him in greater ways than my mind can imagine. I have found a place to belong. I have a church family, my encouragement, and my joy. It’s all here.

This is the promised land.

There is evidence.

Twenty-one year old me who was so hurt, lost, and bound still knew what the Lord had promised her. I wasn’t where I was supposed to be, limping through my job, my singleness, my lack of deeper relationships, my church hopping, my eating disorder. But I had my hope, my peace, and my home.

“I am humbled and quieted in your presence. Like a contented child who rests upon its mothers lap, I’m your resting child and my soul is content with you. O people of God, your time has come to quietly trust, waiting upon the Lord now and forevermore.”

Psalm 131:2-3 TPT

There is evidence for you, as well. And someday, this day will serve as the evidence. So proclaim it loudly. Write it down and tell everyone about the promises He has made and the seeds He’s placed in your hands to sow. There is glory here, whether you’re walking in the promise land or you’re still trying to find fertile soil to scatter the seed. Let it be known. Let Him be glorified.

It’s your turn, love. Break the silence. Spill your guts.

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