I’ll be okay. I’ll be okay. I’ll be okay. I’ll be okay.
I made some more knots in the string I hid in the jacket of my pocket. I turned up my music so I wouldn’t obsess over the sound of my feet hitting the pavement. I’ll be okay. I’ll be okay. I’ll be okay. I’ll be okay. I focused on my breathing. In. 4 seconds. Out. 6 seconds. I was almost there.
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I resent weakness. And if I’m being quite honest, sometimes I am a little frustrated with Jesus for allowing me to experience it. The past 24 hours have been filled with physical pain like I’ve not known before. The past 24 hours have tested every mental guard I have. They have worn me out; and right when I thought I couldn’t be wearier, I’ve reached a new level of weariness. Will I be okay? Yes, eventually. But that’s not why I’m writing this. I’m not writing to explain what is going on with my body right now or delve in to healthcare, or to ask for compassion. I am writing this to worship. The lyrics from a United song have been circling in my head: “Even when my strength is lost, I’ll praise You. Even when I have no song, I’ll praise you. Even when it’s hard to find the words, louder then I’ll sing Your praise.” My body is weak, but my soul doesn’t have to be. So I will worship. And this world may be falling apart, but my God is not. He does not fail. He does not relent. He does not leave. He does not forget me. He does not overlook my pain. He stays right by my side through it all.
And healing? I don’t understand it. I sometimes question if He desires to heal me at all, from anything ever. But I am learning that reliance on Him brings me more strength than a moment of physical restoration. He knows what I ultimately need. He is what I ultimately need. So I’m going to worship. I want to wallow. I want to cry. I have done both, a lot, over the past 24 hours. But now I worship. He holds me when I cry. He empathizes with my pain. He grieves over my grief. He doesn’t laugh or roll His eyes. He catches each tear; He waits with grace while I doubt. If He can sustain me daily, provide oxygen for my lungs, give me hope in the darkness, then I can trust Him through this. He is worthy of my trust. He has never failed me, and He won’t do it now. It’s hard to find words. But I can still praise Him. Instead of focusing on my weakness, I’m going to hold fast to His strength. If Your power is made perfect in weakness, Lord, make me a vessel. The enemy has been trying to get me down all day. There is nothing much more that he would love than for me to take my eyes off of Jesus. But he doesn’t win this. My God wins this. My God wins. Period. And I’ll walk through this in confidence to testify that His grace is sufficient for me. His grace is sufficient. I’m taking my eyes off of my pain, my weakness, my fears. I am going to worship. Even when it hurts, I am going to worship. Through His strength, I am going to worship. I am so excited to share this post with you all! It is written by one of my dearest friends, former roommate, and one of the most passionate people I know. I asked her to write on mentorship, because it's something she does often and does well. I'm excited for you to read her wisdom and get to hear her heart on such an important topic. When I first sat down to write this, I thought about every time I’ve worked with students. I thought about the last 8 years of working youth camps (with the 9th coming up in a few days!). I thought about my first internship where I helped organize and run VBS. I thought about this last semester when I got to mentor an incredible group of middle school girls. I thought about leading drama at my home church for 4 years. I’ve worked with more kids than I could count, spending years teaching, mentoring, praying for, and struggling with each of them.
I’d love to say it was easy, but it wasn’t. It’s not easy to work with a kid who is trying to punch and bite you because she can’t have another juice box. It’s not easy to try to keep the attention of kids who like to scream when they’re bored. I’d love to say that, even though it wasn’t easy, at least seeing the fruit of the work was worth it. I’ve hugged kids after VBS only to never see them come back. I’ve had students that aged out of their programs never step back in church. I’ve prayed and wept for kids, never to see the fruition of the prayers. This sure doesn’t sound like I’m trying to explain to you why investing in the next generation is worth it, does it? It’s not easy, and you don’t always get the satisfaction of seeing the fruit. So why? Why are we supposed to add another thing to our list that is time consuming, difficult, and exhausting? |
AuthorI'm a college student with a passion to empower women, spread the love of Christ, and speak truth into the darkness. I also really like cats and Taylor Swift. Archives
October 2018
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