It's been years...
How do you begin a conversation with someone you've been thinking about, but haven't connected with in years?
That's the question that I haven't quite been able to answer for myself. There’ve been so many sentences that have only ever been half written for me to then backspace everything and - well…stare at a blank glowy phone screen and swipe to a different tab.
I just haven’t known what to say and yet - some nights it’s all I think about when I lay awake staring at my blank ceiling.
Blank pages.
Blank spaces.
Drawing. A. Blank.
What do you say when there's been so much that has gone unsaid?
I'm glad you asked.
Well, if you're anything like me, you might overthink yourself into a mental paralysis in those moments. And. Just. Say. Nothing.
That's been my pattern the last few years when I think about reconnecting with you; my readers - those who were once so connected to a wild life journey I didn't fully understand myself. I was launched out into the deep of the great unknown, only to find myself at the end of myself time and time again.
I would write often and my readers were reading. Often.
A mentor during that time encouraged me to “ride the momentum” while I still had it.
But I couldn't stomach the idea of producing content just to produce content. Not my vibe. There is enough of that on the Internet.
Instead of developing some sort of trendy content strategy and producing inauthentic content to “ride the momentum” of building an online following (because that’s apparently some marker of modern day success - especially as a self-published author), I stopped writing completely.
How do you write about the process of dying a slow and painful death and “maintain momentum”?
My readers wanted to read a happy-ending.
“Where are you now, Becca?! What exciting thing is God doing in your life now?! I wish I could do what you did, you are so adventurous.”
Happy. Endings.
My grandma wanted to read the story of me venturing off to the four corners of America only to find a great guy to settle down with and finally build a healthy family with after a painful divorce.
Mentors wanted to see me get back on my feet financially and spiritual advisors wanted to see me just a little bit less broken.
“In God you are supposed to be blessed, Becca. Are you sure you're following God? I just want to see you thriving.”
Believe me when I say that the last few years haven't looked like what I thought they would look like either.
I did beat myself up for awhile, but then the Lord gently corrected me through His Word.
We rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us. -Romans 5:3-5
He showed me that things weren't hard because I made a big fat mistake by leaving everything in Colorado. They were hard because I was resisting the process of God killing something in me.
Sounds intense, huh?
It was.
I had to come face-to-face with thought patterns of self-pity in me that had formed due to years of chronic, complex, compound trauma. I had to die to the comfort of my own way of thinking. That's a whole blog in and of itself for another day.
But let's just say that God exposed so many of my preconceived notions, limiting beliefs and ultimately helped me die to a version of myself that I no longer recognize.
And there's nothing comfortable about that.
For whoever desires to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for My sake will find it. -Matthew 16:25
I won't lie to you and tell you that I handled it all well either.
I'm human.
It's not an excuse. It's a reality.
Most of us in our human nature are simply afraid to die. Period. Because dying involves pain. And pain is bad. We tend to be especially afraid of the pain of dying to ourselves.
Fuzzy blankets, scented candles, consistent paychecks, encouraging words, happy cat videos, smooth relationships, late night ice cream, etc. We like what's comfortable and what makes us feel good.
Not what doesn't.
The cold hard reality is that we will never grow in our walk with the Lord, if we do not learn to die to what's comfortable.
Three and a half years ago when I began writing this blog, I thought I knew that.
I thought I'd come to the end of my comfort zone when I quit my job and moved out of my house.
Or when I gave away all my belongings and reduced my life down to a hiking backpack and bought a one way plane ticket to another state.
I thought I'd learned the “die to your comfort zone lesson” when I found myself wandering around alone in a corn field praying for a place to stay without a savings account.
The list goes on…
But I hadn't yet experienced the discomfort of being called to live in a region where I knew absolutely no one, in a culture that I very clearly did not fit into right away.
I hadn't experienced the discomfort of having people speak about me (in front of me mind you) in a language I'd have to use an app to understand. Or the discomfort of people from different cultures than me, disliking me because of the color of my skin and the stigmas they associate with people who look and talk like me.
I hadn't yet lived through the discomfort of God inviting me to publish my first book on a topic I felt inadequate to write about (Knowing I Am: A Study On The I Am Statements Of God) with naysayers doubting that I could pull it off.
Or the discomfort of forming adult friendships within the faith community who would later betray me for seemingly no apparent reason.
And then there was the discomfort of being called to love those people regardless of my experiences.
And again, the list goes on.
The last few years have stretched me and ultimately grown my faith in ways I could have never anticipated.
That's what the Christian walk is all about - it's a wild journey of dying to ourselves and coming alive in Christ.
Anyone who tells you differently is lying.
For the Lord sees not as man sees; for man looks on the outward appearance, but the Lord looks on the heart. -1 Samuel 16:7
It's been the condition of my heart that God's been after.
I think it's fair to say that we are living in a generation that lacks “grit.”
“If you don't like your life, change it.”
Is sort of the all around attitude that has been woven into our all-to-familiar hustle culture. But when I prayed about moving, or doing something different during those hard times, I never felt the peace to leave. It makes sense now, because if I would have simply walked away when things got hard, I would have missed my moment.
I would have missed my breakthrough.
All the moving.
All the shaking.
All the looking like an idiot and being helpless to defend my choices because I hadn't yet understood my own journey.
It's all been worth it, because of what has transpired on the inside of me.
It's been the kind of deep work that doesn't have words.
And for that, I'm glad I never tried to come up with any or make content just to make content to keep people engaged.
Some things just take time. Especially when it comes to God forming and shaping our hearts.
Where in your life do you see God's invitation into the uncomfortable? What areas of your heart do you feel Him tugging at? How can your thought processes come more into alignment with His this year?
Check out my book, Knowing I Am: A Study On The I Am Statements of God for more reflective prompts and tools to grow in your faith.
