I apologize in advance for the length of this post. I promise I will practice brevity in future posts!
Though none go with me, still I will follow. No turning back. No turning back.
The
words played in my head as I sat on a plane heading to LAX. It was
August. As I closed the chapter of my life in Hawaii, I had such an
assurance of the life before me in L.A.
Worship School. Bible all the time. Singing all the time. New church. New friends. New adventures.
That was two months ago.
And it was about two months ago that I lost myself.
Now
let me explain, although the content of this story may seem dark, I am
writing it from the end of the journey--from the part that has finally
reached the light. Not to say I have arrived yet by any means, but as I
write about my recent dark months, I no longer feel the darkness
associated with them. Words cannot express the overwhelming gratitude I
possess when I think about how I no longer have to feel the darkness that was surrounding me.
To
be honest, it started before August. A question here, a doubt there. A
justification every once in a while. But it was in August, that I really
lost myself.
I packed up my room, threw away 80% of my
clothes (which I only occasionally regret when laundry day comes too
soon), said goodbye to my family and friends, and came to a new and
strange land called California.
Nothing was familiar. Everything
uncertain. No car. No job. No house. No family. No real sense of
security. With my new uncertain life came one assurance: I didn't know
what I was doing here.
Aside from the occasional, normal
doubt here and there, the days leading up to my new adventure were
hopeful ones. Exciting ones. Ones full of faith.
But it all faded so fast, a Ruth filled with faith seemed to be a far off, idealistic dream.
The
beginning of my time here began with me opening my Bible each morning,
pulling out my journal and waiting to hear from the Lord. Every morning
differed in the content of the lesson and the consistency of hearing His
voice, but one thing remained the same: I doubted. I doubted everything
I read.
I opened the scriptures, heard Jesus say something in a
parable and left doubting that He ever really meant what He said.
Sometimes I doubted that He was who He said He was. Sometimes I doubted
that He knew what He was even saying.
And then. The other side of me would chime in.
Jesus
is the Son of God, Ruth. He is real. He loves you. He died for you. He
wants to speak to you. He has spoken to you before. HE IS REAL.
Isn't He?
I'm not entirely sure where the switch happened. From faith to fear to doubts. As my external securities faded, I began to distrust the internal ones. The ones that had brought me here in the first place.
On
it went. Eventually I stopped opening my Bible each morning. Eventually
I started to hear more and more from myself about how I made a wrong
decision to come here, how I felt alone, how I dont belong here.
Even IF God is real, He doesn't want to talk to me.
On
it went. I still read my Bible because it's really hard to be in a
School of Worship and not read your Bible when it's your homework. This
kept the internal battle, the fighting for my soul alive within me. I'm
sure that's the only thing. (The Word of God is living and active. It is
powerful.)
I will tell you one thing, It's not hard
to be in a School of Worship and not worship. That's easy if your
heart's not in the right place.
Fast forward to Seek
Week. I felt desperate for Seek Week. Because I was desperate to find
out, once and for all, if God really wanted to speak to me. Finally, I
would meet the Lord if He was who He said He was.
So I
committed to being there. I committed to showing up and seeking. I went
at 6 am. I went at 7pm. I was there nearly every day, morning and/or
night. Seeking.
But my doubt was great. Throughout the week, I listened, I sang, I cried, I hoped. I doubted.
I
waited for that moment. That "bursting forth" moment. Where God made
the sun stand still, wrote on the wall, talked through a
donkey...anything that was CLEARLY from Him.
There were moments and glimpses of Him. No talking donkeys though.
So Friday came.
Ok, God. You have ONE more night to talk to me. If You're really here, You have one more night.
I
don't remember what the sermon was. And I don't remember what the
invitation was to come up for prayer. All I know is that in that moment,
I heard nothing and everything all at once.
Ruth, I see you.
It was His still small voice. I knew it well from times past. But it was so faint.
It wasn't enough. I needed someone to lay hands on me and tell me that the Lord says He sees me.
Eventually
I was standing at the front. Somehow, with eyes closed I made it up to
the front (blind walking through a crowded church is not recommended
btw).
And I waited. And waited. And waited.
Finally, a woman came by to pray for me. She laid her hands on me.
Without a distinct word from the Lord, I KNEW that He wasn't going to reveal anything about me to her.
Rude.
She stood there for 5 minutes praying silently over me. Waiting. And waiting. And waiting.
Is there anything I can pray specifically for you?
I laughed. She prayed. And the Lord waited to speak to me till she left.
In not hearing, I heard.
The
Lord was calling me to seek Him. On my own. In quite place of my own
heart. He knew that if I heard a word through another human, I would put
what little faith I had left in their words. In them.
He knew I needed to hear from Him for myself. So He waited. And waited. And waited.
And finally we met each other. Me, in broken humility and lovesickness. Him, in grace and glory.
And through all of this, these two months of wandering, I can say,
That I know beyond doubt. Beyond fear. And beyond the weakness of my human heart that
When we are faithless,
He remains faithful.
He cannot deny Himself.
He has not denied Himself.
And through all of this, I can say, I feel like myself again.
I have been found.
And I have been found in Christ.
