So I'm sure by now if you're reading this you've read the post previous and my heavy heart that headed to Kansas City dragging my heels.
I'm home now and back to work full time today. Thus far...good good. I woke up really early and started myself out slow though so that may have helped. Seth would be happy to know I took his lecture on personal quiet time so serious the first week of lecture phase and don't much know how to function without it in the morning. (I've been like for a good part of my adult life thou).
And so the random bunny trail brings us to Kansas City again. I was less then excited shall we say to go. There was something really scary about being in a place of such vulnerability and just knowing that I had begged, I had pleaded, I had nothing short of screamed at God to show up and meet me there. I knew He was going to and as much as I wanted it, part of me was really scared of it. Submission equals freemdom but freedom is big. And big things take a lot. They take a lot of breaking, of trusting, of walking, of crying, of laughing, of living, of pondering, and reading, and meditating and decision making, and communicating. And all of that takes a toll on an already extremely sensitive heart.
I am always scared to go to Kansas City and I am always blown away by how much I have never regretted going. But as opposed to last year this year was quite different. Last year I walked into it, almost dragged by Jenny. I was not in church, I was riddled with bitterness and anger. Towards God, towards the church, towards people in my life. I knew who God was but I was so lost in my mess of religion and lies. God from day one last year held me and spoke to me with that still small voice of comfort. This is who I am. This is who I am. This is who I am. And it set a fire in my soul that has still not been quenched. (Though it has not survived without attack). Without that conference I would not have gotten on that plane, without a portion of truth that I could claim as my own and treasure in my heart no matter what I would never have made it through 2007 and it goes without saying that this year has most defiantly changed the entire course of my life and the very makeup of my person.
And even with that knowledge I still did not want to go. I feel like I have been ripped from my home as of recently and my heart yearns for it. In New Zealand I glimpsed if ever so slightly my real home, my destiny, my identity, my family in the Lord, His plans, His glory, His Might, His faithfulness, His Loyalty, His Mercy. I've clung to the truth that when He starts a good work He is faithful to finish it and so with that I was able to pick up the pieces of my heart and my measly collection of material possessions and load the car to KC.
But I knew the still small whispers would not suffice. I knew in my place of utter brokenness and such a spirit of lost-ness I needed Him to shout. I felt like I was Jacob gripping Him by the shoulders, "I will not let you go until you bless me! I will not let you go until you give me a new name." Give me a destiny God! Redeem what the locust have stolen! Give me a purpose! Hide me in the cleft of the rock and revel even the glory of your back! I was fully prepared to send Jenny home without me while I stayed on my face in that stadium had I not met him there. I went this year with a purpose. Ask and you shall receive. Knock and you shall find. I was going to be that persistent widow. I was going to knock and knock and knock until I wore him out with my requests. I need YOU!
And within the first worship set I was gone. I was completely and utterly broken. More by his goodness and his love for me then by his conviction (not to say my trip was without it). "You will not relent until you have it all. My heart is yours." It was during that song that a different song came into my head. "Everything I once held dear I count it all as loss. Just lead me to the cross." And I knew within a moment there were things I was clinging to with such a tight fist that I could not reach out my hands for him. The first thing He asked me to give to him was my missionary identity. I have found such purpose and such value in life from this calling on my life. So much so that somewhere along the way I've almost lost grip of my number one identity of the daughter of the king.
And I don't know if I can really explain to you how hard of a choice that was to make. Since I was a little girl I knew I was meant to be a missionary and a messenger to the nations. At 16 I stepped out and made the decision to go on a short term trip and history has written itself in that. And now almost seven years later I can see that as the attack that it was. Now after seven long years, I can grit my teeth and use that lame attempt to get me to quit as fuel to push me forward. Later in life as I grew into a young adult, into this loud, passionate, opinionated, fired up personality. I was ready to lay it on the line. I thought I was ready to walk into hell with a cross seared into my forehead. At 17,18, 19 years old the only thing I knew how to do was be passionate. Be 110%. Obsessive. Addictive. I wanted a ministry, I wanted a destiny. I wanted every book about every wrong against humanity. I obsessed over religions and cultures. I had 5 different Bible translations and absolutely no knowledge of who I truly was as a player in His Kingdom. And so I heard "no" over and over and over again. No, you are not ready. No, you are not worthy. No, you are not right for this. No, this is not your call, not your destiny. And so I spent my early adult years trying to fit myself in a mold I was not made for. I tried with meager success to make myself into my closest friend. All the while sacrificing every relationship I had that required two equal but opposite parts by trying to be a exact and submissive piece to everyone I knew. And so in the end I was nothing but a shell, patchwork pieces of people I have loved. Completely given up every ounce of my own unique person in hopes of finding satisfaction and comfort in a role that was so completely foreign to my instinct; To the intricate and perfect person created in womb almost 23 years ago. And I didn't fit. I don't fit in the mold set for anyone else. I tried so hard to find my satisfaction in the people I tried so hard to immolate. Maybe if they could fill the deep longer for something more, then I could be ok with living a mediocre life...an average attempt, a half ass effort at what in my heart, knew could be a destiny that the King Himself had called me into. Needless to say, I've spent years fighting. Fighting for satisfaction, fighting to hold on, fighting to let go, fighting for everything.
And God called me to New Zealand. I knew I was supposed to go but I had spent so many years being told I couldn't' be who I really was...but I don't blame anyone. I didn't know what my favorite color was until I was 21. I had spent so many years trying to be someone else that I didn't even allow myself the option of picking my own favorite. I sat with this application knowing it was what I was born to do but so convinced I was what everyone else said I was. And in all honesty a little scared that I was like Nelson Mandela says, "not that I was weak but that I was powerful beyond measure."
And I still cannot put that time into words. I try and I try but there is something so sacred, so sealed, so special that I don't dare try. Not yet... but I know. I knew. I learned. This is what I was meant to do. People prayed and prophesied and spoke it over my life. People fought for me to walk into that truth. And she, she literally walked every day of that time, back to back, swords raised, loyally fighting with every ounce of her strength. Not allowing me to quit. Not letting me let go of that dream...she was there when I grabbed it, she was there when I got off the floor with it, she was there behind me pushing me, championing me onward. "Run baby run!" (But this is not your story...not today. It will come when it's ready.)
And so to stand in Kansas City and slowly let my fingers unclench and let these dreams drop to the foot of the cross felt as if my heart was being ripped from my chest. I had no idea I could ever know such trust. I could hear him. Convincing and comforting me with his goodness and his faithfulness. "Trust me baby. I need you to trust me."
Within 5 hours he told me I could pick it back up. In a "Affection Based Obedience" breakout sessions God told me I could pick my missionary dreams back up. I was completly overwhelmed and to be honest surprised that He would give it back to me so soon. Later He confirmed it when the speaker invited me to a prayer and missions confrence in Minnesota later this year.
Later during another breakout session I heard God call me into the wilderness. You see Jesus was raised into a man, it was then that he was baptized and there the God called him into his identity. "This is my BELOVED son with whom I am well pleased." This time was most obviously this last year, with my physical baptism in Turkey and my spiritual baptism in Queenstown and also just a year of staking claim in the kingdom. I have an identity in Christ!! And so I look forward and know that I am not ready to then head out into ministry yet. Nor was he. After his baptism Jesus was sent into the wilderness to pray and fast and be tested for 40 days. THEN he began his ministry. I believe this is where God has called me for the beginning of this year. And so at one point in what was maybe the most intense worship time of the whole conference I physically held my hand out to Him, crying. "Ok, Daddy...I'm scared. I don't really want to do this. But I trust you...don't let go of me. I'm following you through this." And so I started on the 31st with my 40 day walk through the wilderness.
And it's one of the hardest things I've done in a long time. I'm weak. Voluntarily weak. I'm putting myself at the deepest place of desperation and desire and only allowing myself satisfaction through him. I'm tired...I'm hungry...I'm drained...
And every time I glimpse an out, a quiet way to quit. I see his face and I can't. There is something about this desert and even though I am only 4 days in there is something in me, in the deepest deepest part of me that knows I am not letting go until I'm out.
I'm running. I'm walking. I'm crawling. I'm crying. I'm changing.
