In You...

"In You"

I sing for joy
In my remorse
A well within prosperity’s curse
That drowns the mighty oak of pride
But feeds the root of God inside.

In You
I find my rest
In You
I find my death
In You
I find my all and my emptiness
Somehow it all makes sense

In You I’m rich
When I’ve been made poor
Comfort found when I mourn
The prideful one You see from afar
Drawing near to low, broken hearts.

In You
I find my rest
In You
I find my death
In You
I find my all and my emptiness
But it all makes sense

I don't think it's always a great idea to blog when you're tired. Be it emotionally, physically, or spiritually tired. You usually say things you wouldn't normally say, and there they are, written down for all to see forever. I mean you can delete the post, but it's already been out there. For this reason, I hesitated to write, but then I said, "You know what? Who cares? It's me. And I should let it out and not worry how it comes across..." And yes, I talk to myself. Quite a bit. Is that weird? Oh well..

I don't really want to talk about this last week. I could fill a novel with what I've seen and experienced. What I want to talk about is where this week has left me.

This song, "In You," was a balm for my soul, and unfortunately my kids got stuck with me in the van when I played it over and over and over again. I know they hate that.

These last few months, I've spun my wheels, trying so hard to learn, grow and be in Christ. I was challenged and convicted and turn inside out. I found inside myself a check list for how to be a good Christian. I'm sure that no one put it there. I'm sure I did it to myself. I felt like a huge failure; I had like maybe one thing on the "list." I was doubting my usefulness in the kingdom. And yes, I would make strides, only to slide right back down in my mire. I felt very much like a sub par Christian. I didn't measure up to any of the expectations that I felt like I was running into. I asked God to relieve me of any duties that He had called me to, and pleaded with Him to just let me live out my simple little life doing the best I could.

And yes, I know the 1.2 million things that are wrong with that previous paragraph. You can know the right answers and still not know how to implement them.

And then last Sunday night happened. And you know what? In that moment, in a hospital, with a sweet mama's empty hands in mine, it didn't matter if I was a foster mom. It didn't matter if I had never been on a mission trip. It didn't matter where I lived, or if I was read up on my scripture assignments for the week. I didn't matter what color my children were, or where their birth country was. Words like "missional" and "radical" and "intentional" fell away. The only thing that mattered was my relationship with Christ. The strength of that relationship was tested. All that mattered was whether or not everything that I believed in and sought after and rested in was real to me or not. Like a safety net that stretches underneath you, the strength and surety of it's ability to catch you isn't real until you've fallen into it.

I know this isn't an either/or thing. I know that you can be all the things we've been learning about and still be a light for Christ here and now. I think I just got lost, again for the 100th time, in all that I'm not. And I lost sight of what I am. I will argue with those I respect and say that maybe we aren't all called to be everything. I can't be everything. I tried, and I failed miserably. But I walked on the outskirts of the fire, watching someone I care about go through the fire, and my faith was real. My strength and my comfort and hope came from Christ. Because of my devotion to Him; because my commitment to spend time in His Word; because of my precious, intimate walk with Him, I rested in Him. I felt Him all over me. When I was too sad or too tired, He knew. He just took care of it all.

So there must be something here that's pleasing to Him. Something that my obedience is cultivating. Something...

A guy I really like and respect said something I have been thinking a lot about. The Great Commission- "Go into all the world and make disciples.."- You know, GO. Like don't sit here, just GO. Back your backpack and go. I think in my mind, somehow I got it like this: Pack up the handful of things you need that you didn't sell when you sold your house and everything in it; pack up your foster kids; your adopted kids; your Bible reading guide; your super cool, equally as on fire friends; don't wear your Chaco's or your Keens, for goodness sake, but throw on some cheap flip flops and GO to some other country and win a huge heap of people to Christ. Then you are good.

*sigh*

But what this guy said was that this word "GO" actually means, "as you are going..." To Publix, to the library, to the park to meet friends, to church where you do actually belong... As you go, preach the Gospel. BE the Gospel. Here. And always. That does good. And there are times when just because you are SO in love with Him, because He is your everything, and because you really want nothing else but Him, He'll use you. In your own world. With your birth kids while you're wearing your Keens. Because when it all got stripped away, that's what was left. What was real.

Like I said, I'm full of raw emotions. I'm tired. I have no patience for anything that won't carry us through the most horrific thing you could ever face. Because I can do things, but those things aren't going to carry me through my own personal hell. Whenever that comes. And I'm absolutely, positively going to regret this post almost as soon as it's sent. I think it's safe to feel these things and not share them, because then no ones knows. You can appear righteous and good and holy and no one is any the wiser.

But I'd rather be real.