Last night I couldn't find a natural segue. If you missed the train of thought, you can catch up here.
The idea of sacrificing my "Isaac" isn't new (yeah, it's a little awkward, since I literally HAVE an Isaac, but he's cool... I think he'd even find humor in the idea. His name means "laughter" after all). The whispering urges to "let go" and "empty my hands" and to "wait with arms high and heart abandoned" trace clear back, on this blog, to May for sure and possibly earlier in 2012.
Like Peter at the Last Supper, (If you missed it last night, see the January 4th entry for My Utmost For His Highest), I have honestly felt like I was/am wholeheartedly abandoning myself to God's plan for me. Just like Peter, I feeeeeeeel myself reaching, searching, hoping, trusting, and losing sight of my own agenda. I also find myself feeling love, gratitude, and, more than ever before, a deep desire to "lay down my life" for this Jesus I see... I've spent this past year with a bit of a strangle hold on certain characteristics about God that I desperately want to be true. Loving, Faithful, Pursuant, and Trustworthy are all concepts I am clinging to for dear life. But, like Peter, it seems I don't know myself as well as Jesus does...
Because the "Let Go" theme keeps playing through my mind, I am aware that there has to be something I'm supposed to release, but I have been unable to figure out what, exactly. I sorta know "what", I just don't know what parts of "what". The concepts of presenting my requests to God, praying without ceasing, faith being the assurance of things hoped for but unseen, and that he who asks, but doubts is double-minded and unstable in all his ways... all have had me tripped up as they pertain to my "what". (See Philippians 4:6, 1 Thessalonians 5:17, Hebrews 11, Luke 11:11, Matthew 7:10-11, James 1:2-8 for starters...)
How does a girl pray boldly and without ceasing all the while "letting go" and sacrificing the dream called "Isaac" without it falling under the category of "doubt".
Incidentally, have I ever told you I get accused of over-thinking, often?
Okay, soooo with the Friday (Jan. 4th) Oswald Chambers entry still fresh on my mind, Sunday came. I was in a less than "godly" mood that morning. My youngest sister is visiting, so she got to be my pre-church sounding board. The experiences and conversations and nightmares and heartaches of the last two weeks had reached a boiling point. To say the least, I was ready to tap out and surrender to the fear, doubt, distrust and disappointment. After I vented, she gently told me a few of her frustrations as well as a few of her realizations about herself in the midst of them. We headed to church.
Oh good, the freakin' bulletin handout is splattered with bumper-sticker phrases! I internally rolled my eyes, then reminded myself that my pastor is one of the most genuine, big-hearted, deeply wise, spiritually grounded people I know. I'd stay.
"...And God has an abundance...in mind for you..." were the words that stuck out. "Abundance" is such a frustrating LIE, in my experience. I've never had an abundance of anything. Well, except shoes, and even that is debatable and certainly not God's fault.
I'm not a preacher and I certainly do not intend to parrot the good pastor's sermon here. I will say that he, without knowing it, had a verse of scripture that addressed nearly EVERYTHING I had been complaining to my sister about in the privacy of my kitchen an hour before, and those were just in his opening paragraphs. CRAP! Now, I have to listen...
What if I recklessly believed God when He whispered His promise to love me perfectly? What if I recklessly believed that God meant it when He said He has plans to prosper and not to harm me? What if I trusted His voice and believed His promise to fulfill the exact request I presented Him with, my "Isaac" if you will, and trusted that He would not give me a stone when I need bread or a serpent when I need a fish? Would that trust last long enough for me to haul that very same "Isaac" the entire three day journey, up to the mountain, to sacrifice it- all the while knowing, in the depth of my soul, that God would still provide the very thing I put to death?
What if I believed Him enough to stand, with arms high and heart abandoned- fists unclenched, while I waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaait, indefinitely, for Jesus to move first? What if that wait is 25, or 40 years? What if I gave up my dreams and my needs according to my own understanding, and in exchange, grasped the hand of my Abba (Father) long enough to follow Him to the viewing window, where dreams incubate, to catch a glimpse of HIS dreams for me and HIS understanding of my needs?
I remember the Sunday, not quite a year ago, when I made it through an entire church service without melting into a sobbing mess. That was a good day. This past Sunday was the first one since that day, that I couldn't get through one song, or one bullet-point on the handout without a river of tears washing my cheeks. I am being asked to give up even more. After all the loss and pain and devastation of the previous four years, I find myself at the alter again. Will I place the rest of myself on it?
I didn't come this far to stop here. The answer is yes.
As I worked my way through my heart and each of the things that are so dear to me, acknowledging my deep wounds and fears and hopes, I again remembered Oswald's Friday words: "...you will cause difficult situations to arise which will take years to untangle. Wait for God’s timing and He will do it without any heartache or disappointment." The, minutes-old, picture I took of my new baby niece flashed in my mind. She is me, I am her. I am not intentionally, rebelliously, gripping that which will cause heartache and disappointment. I am not intentionally sprinting past Jesus when He calls "come" and gives me a vision of His life for me. I am desperately reaching for Him clinging to His finger, crying out for His comfort, all the while pulling my own hair out and causing my own discomfort...
Father, help me let go of that which is causing me pain, while tightening my grip on the comfort that can only come from you...
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My sweet niece meeting her daddy for the first time, reaches and screams for comfort, while pulling her own hair.
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