absence

“i wept and wept. pleading and asking You to grant me vision and direction. ‘please! please! please!’ did my heart cry. i ache to understand, to see. please family. please purpose. please direction. oh Father, please! please give me perspective. please help me see. help me to understand the lull and the moments of absent purpose. i have faith You will . . . please help my unbelief. please stay me to Your will and please help, guide and direct my steps. it’s Your daughter in need of peace and vision, strength and love. You gave adam purpose when he was alone with You and then You gave him a helper. please Daddy, with everything i breathe, please help me.” written august 8, 2011.

this was a journal entry over a month ago. after weeping myself to sleep the night before, i woke up with an even heavier heart. i walked into my little prayer closet, where many prayers have been uttered before. weak and weary, craving smiles upon my face, i knelt down on the plaid blanket flooring the space. the door was shut. i put my head down into my hands and moaned, barely giving time to breathe. i didn’t know what else to voice but ‘please! please! please!’ . . . over and over and over again. and every time i graveled those words, tears poured out so fast – faster than my fingers could wipe them away.

up to this point, i had been unemployed for five months. i had applied to so many jobs, but nothing. ‘hello! yes, i applied for your open position as a . . . oh, the position has been filled? oh, okay. you’ll keep my application and resume on file? great. um . . . thank you.’ ten applications one day, five the next. one day i walked down the street with resumes in hand, asked for managers and gave them my resume. still, nothing.

every first day of the month was a big lump in my throat, as money to pay rent and other bills were still absent. it felt as though my adam’s apple grew to be an over-sized prize winning pumpkin at the state fair. i couldn’t swallow. and yet, despite the giant gord in my throat, the Lord would provide many small jobs. when the income added up, i always had just enough for those debts. and that was it. if there weren’t small jobs, a friend would give me money and at one time, an envelope anonymously gave me $100.

i was at a place of total and complete mercy. a place of immense vulnerability. i felt like i literally had one day at a time to live  – sometimes only one hour at a time. i felt so small. so purposeless.

no job. no purpose. no direction. no desires met. no. no. no.

it was this realization that led me to drench my blanketed floor with my tears. why was i unemployed? why was i not doing things that i had been gifted to do? why did i have desires? and why were they being thrown away as quickly as i would think of them? all these questions plagued my heart and anchored my smile in hopeless defeat.

“then your light shall break forth like the morning, your healing shall spring forth speedily, and your righteousness shall go before you; the glory of the Lord shall be your rear guard. then you shall call, and the Lord will answer; you shall cry, and He will say, ‘Here I am.’” isaiah 58:8-9

no one’s words could soothe my raw and bleeding heart. no one’s comfort could grace me to sleep. no one’s love could bring me joy. no one on earth could meet me or understand where i was at. only my Beloved in heaven could understand. only my Savior understood my grief. only my God could speak me to peace. and there He was.

a few days later, i was asked by a friend to consider going to india with her for four months. what? go to india? but . . . how? why?

no excitement came. no jumps for joy. no ‘aha’ moment of ‘this is my purpose! yay!’

the only emotions i had were fear, hesitation. is this it? should i go? i’ve never had a deep desire to go. i love indian food, but living there? four months? it didn’t make sense. i didn’t make sense.

here, i had been weeping and crying out to God to give me some direction, some purpose. and when presented with it, i was scared. what was wrong with me? what was my problem?

‘uh . . . i don’t have much to offer. i mean, i play music and i love teaching. but i’m not ready. i’m not equipped to do anything. and besides, it’s not the right time. i mean . . . well, it just isn’t.” i had so many empty reasons to say ‘no’. and for a while, i did.

i began to ask the hard questions. the questions that most believers will avoid because of fear of what will be revealed. and when i began to ask them, they were answered with what i feared would be revealed. pride. doubt. disbelief. empty faith.

the truth is that i am not qualified to go anywhere. the truth is that i cannot offer anything. the truth is i’m just as broken as the homeless man down the street. the truth is i am weak. the truth is life is hard.

john piper once wrote “if we exchange God’s glory for lesser things, He gives us up to lived-out parables of depravity – the other exchanges that mirror, in our misery, the ultimate sellout.” the ultimate sellout. that is exactly what was holding me back.

i was selling myself out of knowing Him deeper and greater. i was selling myself out of knowing how furious His love for me is. i was selling myself out to fear. . . selling myself out to my self. and i knew it.

i began to see these months of nothing as months of a greater something. Jesus was more sweet, His love more tender, His truth more living than anything else. there was nothing so that i could understand that i was nothing, and He was everything. every morning, He met me with His presence. my sleepy eyes would open and i’d whisper ‘today is Your day, Jesus. i only have today. help me to know You and give me purpose.’ He did and He has. for now, i serve whomever and wherever. for later, i am going to india.

i am excited. i am joyful. i am at a peace that really does defy understanding. i can’t even explain it to you. it’s that good!

i’ll be leaving november 11 and coming back at the end of february. my friend, jaclyn, and i will be going to india with a church in california. they will leave after three weeks while she and i will travel up to pune, india where we’ll stay for three months. we’ll be working at an orphanage – a place where children with aids, children without parents, and even children whose mothers are prostitutes, will be. in the ‘red light’ district, there are women with children who, while working, will drug their children and put them underneath the bed while they go to ‘work’. other children get sold into the sex-trafficking business. these, along with others, are the children that my friend and i will work with and show the love of Christ that is greater than any philosophy, religion, or social justice. it will be an intense journey, an i’m completely incapable . . . but He makes all things capable.

i’m still unemployed. still trusting. still believing. still weeping to my Daddy who hears my cries.

Him? well, He is still pursuing, still healing, still hearing, still speaking and still loving. i haven’t arrived at any peak of understanding. i don’t pretend to have it all together, because only God in heaven does. what i do know is that i need Him every breath. . . that i am at His mercy . . . that it is His love that keeps me typing these words to you.

i am a little ‘i’. and He is a big ‘He’. i pray that will never change.