idk

The moment I confessed the truth that I made my own golden calf, God opened my eyes to the work He started and was continuing to do in my heart. This was the type of work that brought me to a Romans 12:1 sacrificial worship and a Romans 12:3 self-evaluation. I had to get real and come to the end of myself. That meant being really honest with myself and God about my struggle to let go and truly let God be who He says He is.

I liked control. In moments of uncertainty I was afraid of believing God has all the answers. In moments of certainty, I still had questions and believed my small fraction held up the bigger picture. The control and sense of security I found in knowing gave me purpose, passion, fuel, and hope. Admitting this to God was one thing, admitting it to myself was another. Telling the truth was hard, learning more and more how much not knowing truly bothered me was even harder.

I’ve always been the smart kid, the golden child, the old soul. I’ve been the one with the answers, the brains, and the potential. I’ve been the one you could come to for some pretty sage advice or wisdom and get exactly what you need. I’ve had the vision, the foresight; the gift of prophecy is quite strong in this one. And like I mentioned in my previous entry, I’m like a sponge for retaining information.

In the midst of being so gifted, I’ve also always felt an unspoken expectation to measure up, to excel, to succeed in everything. People often spoke, and still speak, about the potential I have to actually do the proverbial “it” — that is, whatever I set my mind to. They’re not lying either. God gifted me generously by making me as inquisitive and ambitious as I am. These gifts gave me a sense of control in situations that would otherwise feel uncertain. I could figure it out, I could get it done… it all, always, fell on me and what I could do with what I knew.

Smart, capable, resourceful… still, even the smartest and brightest don’t know it all. My world started crumbling down when I began to realize that was actually the case for me. I, in fact, couldn’t and don’t know it all. As the years went by, and long before I gave my life to Christ, my perspective of my gifts transformed disappointment after disappointment, confusion after confusion. It slowly and surely became a nightmare and a curse when I started to learn that I actually knew so little in a world so big. My once stable ground shifted like sand, and the uncertainty of life terrified me into gripping control as if my life depended on it.

So much of my time has been spent holding onto my safety net of control and letting it down in the same spot, hoping for a catch. In 2020, before the good seed of submission was scattered, another good seed was sown in my heart. A seed that was a nudge in a good direction: surrender. As it took root, I came to the end of myself and confessed to God that I didn’t have all the answers. At the time, I was speaking about a very specific circumstance, and what I received was a whole life instruction:

“Lead with I don’t know.”

This was the second time I heard it, and just like before it was as clear as day. The command and encouragement of God reminding me of His omniscience. Omniscience that’s consistent, far reaching, and always there no matter how limited my sight is.

In 2021, a lot happened that I couldn’t even begin to put to words. After the revelation, promises, and prophetic encounters I had at the end of 2020, I was confident everything was going to be seamless and great on all fronts. I was confident things would fall into place. I started the year in a state of knowing and trusting, holding on tight to the things I was believing God for. I had no clue about the number of curveballs and home runs, trials and triumphs that would come my way. And as they did, I stumbled, stood, stumbled again, and kept walking. 

It wasn’t always easy to do this. There were days I didn’t want to get up and live my life. There were days I was exhausted. There were days I didn’t and couldn’t even bring myself to show up. There were days I ended up more exhausted and weary than I started. There were also really good days. Days I was on fire for the Lord. Days He’d show me He was working. Days my confidence and hope would be restored and reconciled in Him again and again.

I could say that I was holding onto faith in God, but I have to be honest. I was still, in some ways, holding onto my faith in my faith. What is my faith? The thing I anchoured much of my hope and confidence in: the illusion of control that I found in knowledge, wisdom, and foresight. A lot of the things I’d been believing God for were things that weren’t in my control; to be quite honest, that’s pretty much everything. As I continued to cry out to the Father (many times in a tantrum), He continued to exalt and transform me and my heart.

Everything was not in my hands, and He spoke so much life into me to keep me grounded and encouraged in Him. His promise to me was simple: everything He’s doing and bringing into my life would be by His grace alone. Nothing by my own doing, all I can do is trust. I’ve been doing my absolute best not to forget that instruction and that promise, but sometimes I can still be forgetful. Quite forgetful.

The wiring of my mind, a result of past traumas, habits, decisions, and coping mechanisms, has transformed the way I filter information. I’ve learned that I’ve been conditioned to forget what is good and cling to what doesn’t feel good. Still, I’ve committed to actively doing the work to remember even in my forgetfulness. God explicitly told me that everything would happen by His Spirit, His glory, and His grace alone. It would have absolutely nothing to do with my efforts, my merit, and my knowledge. He said the HE would be the One to make it happen and HE was orchestrating it. He spoke so much life into me and gave me so much vision that I literally wouldn’t even know how it could happen outside of Him.

So, I accepted and started off with believing in what I don’t see; however, I always tried to seek and hold onto what I could. As I continued to try to hold on, I found myself also desperately wanting to believe and walk completely by faith and not by sight. And as a found myself walking and stumbling and walking again, I finally started to find my stride.

Part 4 soon come.