I reached out and left DC for my hometown of Atlanta. I started reading the bible, desperately [and thoughtlessly], seeking answers or some sort of solution. I wanted God's love and strength, but I needed a way out and I didn't know how to ask. So, I read. I used any idle time to pray and study. I wanted God to hear my heart and I was so desperate for His. I wasn't until later that I realized He'd been listening to me, His baby, all along, and whispering sweet nothings of love , comfort, strength and courage in my heart. He'd kept me when I didn't want it and loved me when I didn't deserve it.
I started a prayer/study journal. It was simple. I went to a dollar store and bought a small notebook to write passages and prayers in and I used it up, fast. I wrote prayers of hunger and thirst and some of the pages are still tear-stained, but I didn't hear anything from my Father. It was a selfish pursuit, really. I wanted Him to dig me out of the hole of depression that I'd dug myself into, but I wasn't really willing to get close enough for Him to permeate my whole existence. I just wanted what I wanted. Peace of mind. Comfort. Love. Strength.
I didn't know what peace was until I found myself writing a prayer, trying to apologize for something that I almost did. I may not be writing to you now...
So, here I was. I lay in my bed one night, with Netflix playing on my phone (probably Frasier) as I stared at the ceiling trying to go to sleep. I'd learned to drown out 'the voice' in my head with TV and music. Trying to reconcile them and what they were saying had proven too hard for me, so I stopped paying attention.
I couldn't sleep. It was late and my head was pounding. I finally got up to get a glass of water when something nearly forced me onto my knees. Maybe, I was dizzy from rising so quickly. Maybe, He wanted to talk to me. So, I kneeled at the foot of my bed and sighed, "Dear God--" and almost instantly, it was like He was sitting on the edge of my bed, rubbing my back saying, "it's alright, I'm here." For some of you, that may not seem like much, but it was amazing for me. Feeling God's presence so closely had me awestruck and nearly frozen. I can't tell you exactly what I said as I prayed, but I know I spent a long time down there.
Afterward, I stood and walked to the other end of my bed feeling wobbly and very, very light. ** You know that feeling you get after get when anesthesia begins to wear off and someone is guiding you as you walk? It was like that. I KNOOOOOW how crazy that sounds, but that's what it felt like. ** And the next morning, I dressed in near silence. Only humming could've been heard from my bedroom, maybe. I wanted to pray (like deciding whether or not to call after a first date. AWK-WARD), but I didn't know what to say. So, I said, "lead me, speak to me. What do you want from me? What do I need to do? Whatever the plan in, I'm in." Admittedly, I was a bit nervous about giving God free reign over my life, for real. I've read the bible. God likes to shake things up when you invite Him into your life.
I spent the whole day talking to Him. I asked questions. I sang songs. I prayed. I studied and listened. And do you know what the craziest thing about the entire day was? HE TALKED BACK! ** I'm not a person who necessarily needs someone to listen to me and my thought/feelings all the time. It's nice, but that's what my journal has always been for. But I love and deeply appreciate dialogue. That someone enjoys my thoughts or is so inspired my them that they just have to respond makes me feel like I'm in their space, company. It's like, I'm not just on someone's couch. We're kickin' it. And it's awesome. **
I realize, looking back, that part of me (selfishness alert) wanted to hear from God without contributing much to the dialogue. That, kids, is not real love. We'll never really be able to reciprocate God's love because we can't wake/heal/deliver/redeem Him, but He wants what we can give. This idea completely blew my mind. 'You mean to tell me that the same God who sent the plagues and parted the Red Sea, gave Satan permission to tempt Job and reminded him of His power and grace, etc... wants to hear MY voice? ... Why?' L. O. L. But he does. In fact, He loves it.
Anyway, the more I prayed and listened, the more He spoke and listened. Sometimes, He'd speak (I learned at some point that during prayer, God speaks. Sometimes, between my words. Sometimes, He spoke during them.) and it was so loud and intense that I expected to open my eyes and find Him sitting next to me, smiling. Instead, He showed me His heart. Vividly. I could actually see it. And I still see it. I see it every time I look in the mirror.
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I started a prayer/study journal. It was simple. I went to a dollar store and bought a small notebook to write passages and prayers in and I used it up, fast. I wrote prayers of hunger and thirst and some of the pages are still tear-stained, but I didn't hear anything from my Father. It was a selfish pursuit, really. I wanted Him to dig me out of the hole of depression that I'd dug myself into, but I wasn't really willing to get close enough for Him to permeate my whole existence. I just wanted what I wanted. Peace of mind. Comfort. Love. Strength.
I didn't know what peace was until I found myself writing a prayer, trying to apologize for something that I almost did. I may not be writing to you now...
So, here I was. I lay in my bed one night, with Netflix playing on my phone (probably Frasier) as I stared at the ceiling trying to go to sleep. I'd learned to drown out 'the voice' in my head with TV and music. Trying to reconcile them and what they were saying had proven too hard for me, so I stopped paying attention.
I couldn't sleep. It was late and my head was pounding. I finally got up to get a glass of water when something nearly forced me onto my knees. Maybe, I was dizzy from rising so quickly. Maybe, He wanted to talk to me. So, I kneeled at the foot of my bed and sighed, "Dear God--" and almost instantly, it was like He was sitting on the edge of my bed, rubbing my back saying, "it's alright, I'm here." For some of you, that may not seem like much, but it was amazing for me. Feeling God's presence so closely had me awestruck and nearly frozen. I can't tell you exactly what I said as I prayed, but I know I spent a long time down there.
Afterward, I stood and walked to the other end of my bed feeling wobbly and very, very light. ** You know that feeling you get after get when anesthesia begins to wear off and someone is guiding you as you walk? It was like that. I KNOOOOOW how crazy that sounds, but that's what it felt like. ** And the next morning, I dressed in near silence. Only humming could've been heard from my bedroom, maybe. I wanted to pray (like deciding whether or not to call after a first date. AWK-WARD), but I didn't know what to say. So, I said, "lead me, speak to me. What do you want from me? What do I need to do? Whatever the plan in, I'm in." Admittedly, I was a bit nervous about giving God free reign over my life, for real. I've read the bible. God likes to shake things up when you invite Him into your life.
I spent the whole day talking to Him. I asked questions. I sang songs. I prayed. I studied and listened. And do you know what the craziest thing about the entire day was? HE TALKED BACK! ** I'm not a person who necessarily needs someone to listen to me and my thought/feelings all the time. It's nice, but that's what my journal has always been for. But I love and deeply appreciate dialogue. That someone enjoys my thoughts or is so inspired my them that they just have to respond makes me feel like I'm in their space, company. It's like, I'm not just on someone's couch. We're kickin' it. And it's awesome. **
I realize, looking back, that part of me (selfishness alert) wanted to hear from God without contributing much to the dialogue. That, kids, is not real love. We'll never really be able to reciprocate God's love because we can't wake/heal/deliver/redeem Him, but He wants what we can give. This idea completely blew my mind. 'You mean to tell me that the same God who sent the plagues and parted the Red Sea, gave Satan permission to tempt Job and reminded him of His power and grace, etc... wants to hear MY voice? ... Why?' L. O. L. But he does. In fact, He loves it.
Anyway, the more I prayed and listened, the more He spoke and listened. Sometimes, He'd speak (I learned at some point that during prayer, God speaks. Sometimes, between my words. Sometimes, He spoke during them.) and it was so loud and intense that I expected to open my eyes and find Him sitting next to me, smiling. Instead, He showed me His heart. Vividly. I could actually see it. And I still see it. I see it every time I look in the mirror.
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