He Has Loved Me

In March some fabulous women and I had a "Women's Night". We didn't have time to think of a cooler name. I know that's important because one time I suggested that we do a weekly Mom's-Night-Out. A friend said that was the most horrible name she'd ever heard and she would never want to tell anyone ever she was the kind of person that would go to a Mom's-Night-Out. So, we'll call it We Laughed, Talked and Each Ate 3 Pounds of Cheesecake Night. 

After wine and cheesecake, my friend Allie played worship music while we painted. I soaked in God's presence and a voice familiar to my own came from my heart, I took a pen and wrote across my painting, "My story is...He has loved me". I had no idea what those words would mean in the months to come.

I'm surrounded by friends, family even strangers that hear God all the time. Hearing God for myself is awesome, but sometimes it's vital to hear what is being spoken in Heaven from another voice. I remember a particular time when I was doing an outreach with Youth With a Mission in South Africa. We had been given the opportunity to listen to a local speaker. I can't remember what he spoke on that night, but I walked up front to get prayer. I was squished in-between fifty other people as he made his way through us praying along the lines of his sermon topic. As he touched my head he stopped walking and switched subjects completely. "Someone has put a burden on you from a young age, you've been carrying this weight, but God says that you are His princess and you were never meant to carry it." From the deepest places inside me I began to sob. It's so amazing how God can tell the secrets of a Montana girl's heart to a preacher in Africa. He had called out something in me that I never would have been able to put my finger on myself. And that burden? Although lifted it didn't entirely go away that day.

Two months ago I would have told you that I was doing amazing. Sure there were a few things here and there. I would have given you a list for self-improvement (part of the issue I will soon explain) but over all I was thriving.

About that time an amazing guest speaker visited our church. When I went to get prayer he spoke about a tension that resided in my chest. "The tension has been there a long time" he said. "It's not your fault, but God wants to release you from it." He spoke to me about intimacy with Jesus and about "rest" which would become a theme in my life. Real rest was so foreign to me at that point that I cried because rest sounded like one-more-thing I needed to "do".

I cried and cried. And cried. Not a nice crying like my South African crying, but a frustrated, mad, but-I'm-just-trying-so-HARD-God crying...and I don't know how the *blank* to change. But I listened. It poked at my identity in a way that made me feel...disconcerted, but at the same time I knew the tension was there, and I wanted to know a life without it.

I was so unsure how to go about this thing called "rest" (which I interpreted in my mind to mean: sit still and "don't" do all the things you NEED to do, pretend to be serene, but instead feel like ripping out your own hair). Seriously. Has anyone ever lived with toddlers? Or been a woman? 

I'll be honest, for the first day of my journey to figuring out this thing called rest...I jumped on the trampoline for a quarter of the day. Then I started with other basics like a visit to dictionary.com.

Rest

noun

1.  the refreshing quiet or repose of sleep: a good night's rest.

2.  refreshing ease or inactivity after exertion or labor: to allow an hour for rest.

3.  relief or freedom, especially from anything that wearies, troubles, or disturbs.

4.  a period or interval of inactivity, repose, solitude, or tranquillity: to go away for a rest.

5.  mental or spiritual calm; tranquility.

Throughout the months that followed I continued to get the same word from anyone who hears the voice of God. All different people. Rest. Rest. Rest. Never have I received the same message so many times. I began joke with friends about heading off the next person to pray for me, "Hey, rest right? I'm working on it. Anything else?"  or..."Please do not tell me to rest. Please tell me God is going to send someone to come clean my house, pay my bills and combine all my junk drawers into one junk drawer." 

But seriously.

In actuality the word sunk deeper and deeper each time and became less offensive to my identity. I continued to pursue it, even though I didn't understand. 


One of my favorite words during this period of time was from a fatherly man that goes to our church. He told me God was calling me to "rest" and that my relationship with God had been defined by how much I loved God, but God wanted to change it to "How much He loved me".  


But. 

If I didn't pursue God...would He pursue me? If I didn't DO wouldn't I be some sort of disappointment?  If I didn't make sure to "love" God...would we even be friends?

In the movie Father of Lights, I heard this quote. It intrigued me:

"He (God) spreads the table for His children...people always seek God, in the Christian faith God seeks man." Father of Lights Film

And this is the beginning of my journey to the restful life...

Special thanks to all those who have been walking with me in this season, and have affirmed and re-affirmed God's invitation to a less-broken identity.