on finding rhythm. & crashing on His depths of grace.
Can I be honest with you?
I feel like I’m fumbling my way through my own story, devoid of rhythm and grace.
I have no idea what this season is supposed to look like.
Like the beginning stage of a long run, when your legs feel heavy and your breaths all over the place. The stage that you often have to push through before you hit your stride and find the sweet spot of strength and speed.
The stage where your body is physically running but you don’t feel like a runner.
I’ve been in BC for six weeks. six weeks. It feels like so much longer, and yet, so new.
because, honestly, I still don’t know what life is going to look like here. I don’t know the depth or form family or community is going to take here. and I don’t know what shape or pattern rhythm is going to take here.
this is uncharted territory.
I moved here because Abba spoke that this was home. and that He had promises to unravel and lead me into here.
So, I jumped off a cliff.
and I really don’t like free-falling.
I don’t like feeling entirely out of control.
But here I am. stumbling through the beginnings of a new chapter. Realizing with every step how desperate I am for Abba’s grace to illuminate every single step. Seeing, with a new depth of understanding (and repentance), how much I try to cling white-knuckled to ideas of control or the comfort of false-security. Realizing how often the misleading doctrines of self-sufficiency succeed in stealing my attention away from only locking eyes with the Lord.
Sometimes I wish it was easy. I wish this transition stage was perfectly smooth. I wish that establishing myself in a new community wasn’t complicated and time consuming. I wish I knew how long I’m going to live here [in this little house in Langley] and how long I’ll be in school here. I wish school was affordable, that my student loans wouldn’t launch me into anxiety like they do, that moving didn’t cost so much and that my job would pay all my bills. I wish I didn’t feel torn between this season in Langley, my growing heart for the city, and my willingness/eagerness to chase whatever scenic detours en route to the city that Abba may (or may not) have up his sleeve. I wish I wasn’t battling uncharacteristic exhaustion and that training would just progress without pain or (all-too familiar) injury sensitivity. I wish my heart didn’t continually ache for the nations. I wish my friends were here, not spread out across Canada, the US, and Asia. I wish I had someone to share this adventure (and whatever adventures come next) with.
But, as I was driving back from Vancouver a few nights ago, the lights of the city fading behind me as I drove towards home, wishing that I wasn’t driving away from the city I so love, it all of a sudden hit me:
This is what I wanted.
This is what I asked the Lord for.
As much as I wish all those other things to be (and many truly are dreams that ache in my heart), they pale in comparison to His far surpassing worth.
and what I really want - more than absolutely anything else - is the fullness of Jesus.
I want the presence of the Lord in every moment of every day. I want raw and broken and redeemed and glorified before Him. I want my words to fail and His to take over. My efforts to fall short and His in me to bring all good things to be.
I want full dependence. The kind of desperation that absolutely necessitates His grace and sustaining hand. in every moment. and at every juncture.
I want Him to be all that I need. I want His presence to be my home. and His friendship the absolute most important and most cherished part of my life. I want His dreams and His timing and His voice to be the single narrative that unfolds in this story.
And, as much as it scares my flesh, I want to live in a way that is absolutely impossible without Him. To risk and to dream and to jump off cliffs in such a way that the only possibly place to crash in on His goodness and faithfulness.
I want to bank on the promises of heaven. I want to re-learn to
walk run towards the things He has spoken without any fear or hesitation or doubt. And I want my identity to be so entirely wrapped up in Saviour Jesus’ unchanging and unwavering love that the disappointments of training or the failures/successes of school or career or relationship status (or lack thereof) do nothing to derail or disappoint.
I’m so far from that place. It hurts my heart how far I am from that place.
But it’s what I want. It’s what I asked the Lord to grow in me. A new depth of intimacy. A new depth of desperation. A new depth of worship in the ins and out and ups and downs of ordinary [extraordinary] life.
And this season, as fumbling as it feels, as out of rhythm my movements feel, is exactly that. so raw. so vulnerable. so clay pot purified in the fire.
it’s definitely not pretty, but it is so richly lined with beauty.
I have no where to crash but Him. No place to hide but His refuge.
For nearly six weeks, I’ve been asking the Lord for His rhythm in this season, thinking it would come in a familiar, feeling-comfortable-and-capable stride. Thinking it would come in a place where I felt “in my element” and thriving both internally and externally.
That may come. [I really do love school, authentically enjoy my new job, and absolutely love the beauty and culture of BC]. If it does, it will come at the right time, a precious gift overflowing from Abba’s presence when my heart is ready to receive it.
But, I’m starting to see that the entire lack of rhythm, familiarity, or comfort (aside from the peace and beauty He shines in every day), the feeling like I’m stumbling and fumbling - some days feeling like I’m running, and some a struggle to take one step, and the letting go of control and falling down in desperation and utter exhaustion before His throne, is the very rhythm I’ve been asking for.
As uncomfortable and hard as it is. As many tears as I cry or wrestling matches I have with God, as much as I feel inadequate or ill-prepared or alone. As much as my flesh wavers and my strength fails. As much as my heart debates giving up because it’s been a long and exhausting season of treading water (extending far beyond than the current blip of this unraveling story), the depths and pains of which only Abba and I will known.
It’s worth it.
He’s worth it.
It’s the rhythm of grace.
the rhythm of desperation.
the rhythm of raw, honest vulnerability before the throne of Almighty God, who holds all nations in the palm of His hands and still cares about the depths of my heart.
the rhythm of trading brokenness for freedom. struggle for peace. disappointment for joy.
oh what a glorious rhythm indeed.