lukewarm
Before reading, I want to let you know that lukewarm is part 1 of “He’s In The Boat.” I started writing this series last year at a time where I experienced a great threshing of my life, my mind, and my heart. I suffered — in different ways and extents — for a little while in order to be changed and be how I am now. “He’s In The Boat” is a message about the faithfulness of God, a message I am currently bearing fruit and reaping a harvest from.
When read [r-e-d] consecutively, each entry will read [r-e-e-d] like chapters in a novel. You don’t have to commit to the whole thing, but every entry will end and lead right into the next one. As much as I’d like you to walk this journey, my greatest desire is that the Holy Spirit leads you to join at the appointed time. Whether the time is now or later, I’m grateful to serve you in whatever capacity the Lord has decided. If that time doesn’t come, I’m confident He has a message for you elsewhere. He always does, so in every way I just pray you receive everything you need.
To God, our Father, be the glory. Forever and always, amen!
There was a point in my life where I felt like I was transient, always in transition and unable to settle in one place. This is especially true for much of my earlier years. I moved around a lot as a child, and I didn’t realize how out of control and impermanent that made me feel until the moment I started writing this.
Even at the house I grew up in during high school and college, I felt like I was just a visitor. These feelings led me to believe that nothing about my life was or could ever feel/be permanent. A pessimistic outlook that I maintained for many years before moving to New York and finally feeling at home.
“Always in the middle.” That’s how I felt, and it didn’t change when I first started walking with Christ either. Always in the middle. I never felt quite like I’d ever truly arrive or belong anywhere. I’d never felt like I could measure up. I never felt like I could get there when I was right here.
Lukewarm. I’d be lying if I told you my faith was anything but that in the beginning. Even if I could pull off the image of a faith full believer, no matter how many big leaps I’d taken, I never felt like I really had faith. Usually that feeling showed itself the most when I was in between where I used to be and where I wanted to go.
In my walk with God, I’ve found it so difficult to give up and surrender what brought and brings me comfort. Whether it was the false intimacy I found in meaningless sexual exploits, the false freedom I found in substance use, the false love I found in toxic relationships (and situationships), the false acceptance I found in self denial… it was always so hard to let go of those idols. It was always difficult to take the first step to move away from what was familiar in order to move towards what wasn’t.
The walk between where I was and where I wanted to go, which had often been where God was taking me, was not always easy. As I straddled the fence between the false fulfillment of sin and the satisfaction of salvation in Christ, I struggled. Giving up certain comforts came easier than others, but there was always a moment in the in-between where I felt hopeless and helpless about ever moving forward into freedom.
I’d just row my little boat out to sea, ready and willing to move forward. But then I’d look down at my oars, out at the distance ahead, into the water, and turn around when I’d feel overwhelmed by uncertainty. My pattern was always to return to comfort because sacrificing what I know, no matter how painful it was, had been too terrifying a risk.
In retrospect, every time I did something that seemed to be a big leap of faith, it wasn’t difficult. Very rarely did it require real sacrifice and growth — though my move to New York definitely did. But walking out in faith and away from these small devils, you can bet your bottom dollar I sacrificed, surrendered, and submitted. Even when I fell short, and I did very often, I kept getting back up and into that boat.
I’d just keep paddling out, and I’d get further each time I’d try. Paddling the boat until I was weary and tired of the effort, until I was frazzled by the seeming endlessness of the sea. Back and forth and back and forth and back and forth. Until, at some point, I just didn’t want to go back anymore. Then, after years of my paddling, I’d been able to give up the act of indulging my flesh and sin which was to find satisfaction, solace, and comfort in anything but God.
You know what I didn’t realize though? I didn’t realize that all of the time I spent trying to overcome and leave, I was trying to do on my own. Whenever I think about the things I’ve overcome, I never actually see God in the midst helping me. ThoughI know He’s there, I only envision Him in the beginning of the journey and at the end. I’d never envisioned Him in the boat with me. I was so convinced in my striving to overcome that I thought I had to do it alone. I leaned more into my knowledge of walking out my faith that I didn’t lean into the Truth that God walks it out with me in Christ through His Holy Spirit.
“I have to do this. I have to do this on my own. God is depending on me and waiting on me to change myself. It’s my responsibility. It’s all on me. I have to do this.” These were the thoughts running through my mind and cycling in my heart. They come whenever God is asking me to walk away from what I find comfort in so I can receive comfort in Him.
As I’m writing this, I realize how wrong I was in thinking those things. Jesus was always there with me; He was always there in the boat. I just never looked, and I never asked if He was. I never thought to ask. I didn’t consider that He’d want to help me, so I did all the hard work. I didn’t think He was more than willing to paddle with and even for me. And even in all my striving, He was faithful to be there. He remained with me. I’m grateful that He stayed with me and traveled with me, even if I didn’t notice Him.
BUT, that’s not what this post is about. This post is about this new ocean I’m traveling in; however, that little story will give this series some context.
Check back in next Friday for the next entry, “I just wanted control.”
