Not safe but good

Of all the things to be scared of, with everything going on in the world, does it make sense to say that I am most scared of myself? Funny, while sitting around, making conversation, I have yet to really hear this one come up. As I sit and reflect tonight, this is the thought I continually churn over. How could I have created a life filled with such dichotomies? I am a counselor, encouraging reflection and strength. And yet I am a woman who when alone in a basement, the voices begin to build. Conveniently the Christian world uses words like community and authenticity, allowing me to avoid actual direct need or contact with God for a while. There simply isn't any hiding anymore. I must make peace with God...He isn't letting me hide anymore.

I think what makes your teens and early twenties so passionate is a thirst for adventure, a longing for love, and a relatively healthy heart. However, life comes in ways that you could have never expected, never have seen. So a love that once came as easily as breathing now becomes a place of confusion.

Ever since the great hurt that I experienced 15 months ago, I find that somehow I have crept into a life of security, with my main priority becoming the avoidance of pain. Yet I am afraid that in this pursuit I will run the risk of never feeling much of anything at all. The woman that God claimed 13 years ago still longs for her birthright and the parts of me that have survived are calling out.

Love is illogical. Is this why we seem so preoccupied with trying to understand it's wonder? Somewhere, I must find it within me to say that even though I have not experienced the combination that I require, I must live like it will be known. How must I find rest?

I looked at a friend tonight and said, "I find it kind of sad that basically my relationship with God can be deduced to a couple of moments where I had nothing left to choose but Him." And although that had a pathetic tone, as I sit and think, pondering my friend's words, I accept that it is anything but weak. Somehow, despite my greatest efforts, God is still fighting for my heart. And if all I am only willing to give him the moments that my grips are empty, then at least he is still extending a hand. There is more power in that then I could have ever imagined.

God help me to not be afraid of me. Help me to know that you could possibly meet me in this need while reminding me that loving you is no promise of simplicity. However, you are not "safe but you are good." And with that I give you my heart.