Really, more often than not — I choose to not remember. Or at the very least, I lack being intentional at not forgetting. You’d think I’d have learned this by now; and that His Truth and Light would perpetually permeate my being, shaking me to my core — so that others might be shaken by His Love, too. But I’ve wandered, and my faith has taken a greater hit in these past few months than it had in seasons past. Slowly fading, I consciously wandered from the Love I was once contededly familiar with; choosing to seek truth in all other gods that demanded excuses, induced tears, and left my hands singed with the smoke of false pacification and fleeting lovers.
I’d chosen to not remember what it felt like to dance with Him. I’d chosen to not remember what it felt like to be free in Him. I’d chosen to not remember what it felt like to be accepted by Him.
Questioning everything and finding nothing, my pride kept me from digging myself out of the entrapment I’d created for myself. Yet, in moments of silence — I felt the tug of His grace and the whisper of His voice, beckoning me to return Home. Pushing myself away, I filled the silent emptiness with everything but Him.
And He remained, even when I did not. Far too often, I think, no — I know — that I tend to ignore, or overlook, those moments. Those moments when God whispers — or screams — a message of His love to us; through the vast beauty of the Universe, or through a precious voice, spoken tangibly by another human — delivering His message to our heart.
This time, it took one of those moments, for the 26.7th time. Two weeks ago, I found myself on top of a mountain, on an overlook off of the Blue Ridge Parkway, at 1:30 a.m. The night was ethereal. Seven of us, including myself — were enveloped by a cool, middle-of-the-night Summer breeze, surrounded by the Blue Ridge Mountains on every side, sillhouetted by moonlight, and covered with a canopy of constellations overhead; piercing through the velvety-ink sky.
Giddy laughter turned to awe, as we marvelled our surroundings; periodically breaking the silence for conversation. My cigarette-scented fingertips reached for the glass bottle of wine we had been drinking from, as our talk turned to the subject that I had chosen to not remember — and the only one I was longing for.
My curiousity was piqued as my newest friend in the group, one I had met only hours prior, began to share stories of the past seven years of his life: circumnavigating the globe, as he travelled to many of the various nations my heart has been longing to go — sharing the Love of Christ. Strong, and full of passion; his testimony re-ignited in me who I once was, my purpose, and who I was called to be. It was hard to remember, but impossible to actually forget. Knowing nothing of my internal struggle over the past few months, he turned to me, and indicated that the Lord had spoken something to his heart, for me:
“He misses you. He misses your voice. He misses your presence.”
In that moment, my eyes instantly fogged with tears, as I continued to lock my gaze with the stars overhead. I could feel my soul begin to awake from the state of external insomnia and internal slumber I had been living in. This time — I chose to remember to see the beauty in my brokenness; realizing that I wasn’t permanently broken at all, and all of my questioning was leading me on a path back into His arms — a path that I am still on, and will forever be on.
I wouldn’t be fully honest if I didn’t say that I’m still struggling, and that it’s still easy to consider being swayed. But really — that’s part of life and the loveliness of humanity.
It’s half-past 2 a.m., with roughly four days before I make another transition on this journey of life; and move to Los Angeles to intern at the Dream Center. While there, I’ll undoubtedly encounter souls with deeper hurts and darker scars than I could ever imagine surviving through. It’s my hope that I can use my life’s story — that this post was only about a 0.2% glimpse of — to be Love, in a tangible form — to everyone I come into contact with.
Let it be.
