The fear had once again resurfaced; not that it had ever actually disappeared. But this is simply a matter of surrender, and when the fear re-livens, to surrender. And at times, I won’t even recognize my struggles being rooted in my fear.
Last Wednesday night we had a time of confession of sins and fears, and a cleansing from these by the washing of one another’s feet. In the beginning, I was reluctant to pray over or speak into people’s lives who were opening up because of what God has been teaching me about silence. And because of the importance of this teaching in my life and how it relates to this story, I will take a detour to tell about it.
So, as I talked about in my last blog entry, I had really been fighting for opportunities to just come away and be with Jesus. But gently He had been teaching me how to let Him quiet my heart even while I was surrounded by people in the flurry of activity throughout the day. He was showing me the solitude that could be had within the sanctuary of my heart that is the temple His spirit resides in. Tenderly, He was leading me to take advantage of even just the moments of silence or stillness, and in this way to abide in Him. In the mornings as I still laid in bed, He drew my heart into a state of listening meditation before Him to gain His perspective, transforming my attitude. And as I allowed His Words to wash over me, groggy changed to anticipation and hope, and grumpy reversed to gratitude and joy. After morning exercise, He would draw me aside to where He was painting the sunrise with vivid brushstrokes. After breakfast, we would sit on our shady bench together as He read me His thoughts, bringing clarity to my own. We sneaked away together after dinnertime to our most favorite bench enshrouded by a tree, perfect for reclining against, and overlooking a pond, its ripples dappled with the day’s last drops of sunlight. And I love it when Jesus grabs my hand to escape on an adventure together: climbing a tree, traipsing through a meadow, or stealing away into the stillness of night to lie beneath the silent blanket of stars. He has been reminding me of my unrestrained, unburdened love for Him while still at home, and alluring me back into the singing, laughing, and dancing to the music of life, bringing hope even to the valley of trouble (Hosea 2:14-15). In moments like these I find myself basking in a joy that comes simply from the beauty of being. As my mom tells me, each day is a gift, and I desire to live in eager expectation of God’s intent for every day I’m blessed to exist. And day by day, I’m beginning to hear more distinctly the unmistakable whisperings of His spirit to mine throughout the day. Most surprisingly to me, these whisperings occur even in the midst of my conversations with others, allowing me to replace the many words I otherwise would have spoken with the simplicity of wisdom His words afford.
But listening to His Spirit also gave me a certain sense of trepidation, as if I was tiptoeing through meaningful conversations, holding my tongue more often than not for fear of speaking my own words rather than His. In doing this, I forfeited the vulnerability of openly sharing my heart, which was in part subconsciously motivated by a fear that people would not care to know. So this brings me back full circle to my hesitance to speak or pray over people during foot washing, and still more, to share what fear lingered in my own heart.
So here’s the fear: that God is uprooting my heart from the fertile soil of home with all of its nurturing relationships with family and friends. I find that when Christ asks me to surrender everything for His sake, I withhold my father, mother, brother, sisters, and friends from Him. I cling so tightly to home, which is a refusal to acknowledge Him alone as my home. I hold fast to the people of home whom I so dearly love, which prevents Him from being my All in All. And as long as I decline to relinquish both home and the people of it to Christ, I remain in a state of idolatry.
But along with the damage done to my relationship with Christ by my idolatry, my relationships with the people away from home are also inhibited. I witness this self-fulfilling prophecy unravel of my belief that I could never be as close to anyone as I am to the people of home. I anticipate that people will not know or understand me as deeply, so my tendency is to still strive to know them, yet often with a limited reciprocation of vulnerability.
Sharing this fear to a couple of teammates was the first step to conquering it, but certainly many more steps ensue. These teammates prayed over me and washed my feet, yet the struggle is not over. And I feel like this is more spiritual than I realize. There is a ubiquitous battle being waged between angels and demons. And I believe that Satan often works discreetly, and that this seemingly subtle fear is causing me to withhold from my team, which affects our ministry. Although I am also aware that much of this is simply homesickness. But either way, I would deeply appreciate prayer for this, and am so grateful for those of you who have already prayed over this. Many thanks, and I love you all so much!
