to walk in the dark.

Here's a whole mess of honesty, minus the grammar and literary pizzazz.

My heart is kind of broken.

Today, I turned down an offer to work at James River, and simultaneously turned down my acceptance to AGTS. Financially, those opportunities just wouldn't work. Apparently, it's not the time.

But for a while, I had really thought it was the time. I had begun to imagine the way things might be. I had fallen in love with this new plan for my life.

I know I made the right decisions, but leading up to them, over the last few days, I've been so bitter towards God. So ready to just throw it all away. Because I don't see how turning from these opportunities is going to result in the end I feel He's called me to. I don't see it. I don't. And I don't understand it. And I had to say no to things I really, really wanted. And it hurts. And now I feel lost, and set adrift, and like I have no clue how to get to where I think God wants me.

So I was ready to turn from God, to turn from His church. But I prayed for peace. And I woke up this morning with peace. Now this is interesting--the peace didn't take the pain. I'm still incredibly sad that I had to say no to things I had so cherished the thought of. But the peace gave me at least two things. Firstly--reassurance that I'm making the right decisions. And secondly--the sense that though I've never felt more lost, I have never been more entirely in His will.

There is this most incredible sense in my heart that God is moving. He's moving. I read about these people with great, big, trusting faiths, and I think--I could never have faith like theirs. But He's building it! This sucks, but He's building. At the end of the hold wasn't an obvious victory, a "Here, Ashley, let me take care of that problem for you." It was an "I've got you all the way out here on this branch, and you're learning how to depend only on me, and that is so so so good. You'll have faith like those yet."

And the most amazing part is that He's not even angry with me for my wanting to turn. He has been so loving, so gentle, and caring all day, I can't...I don't understand. It's raw, and beautiful.

I understand the Cross a little better. It is so far from underwhelming.

runaway Christian.

I like the Old Testament. A lot. Like... a lot a lot.

I was reading in Job today, and there's all this stuff about the awe-someness of God. About how He commands the sun, and set the stars, and stretches the skies, and walks on the oceans. Sometimes, it's easy for me to fly by that kinda thing as metaphor. But today, I stopped. That's not metaphor. It's literal. He's God. He can do all of that.

Here's my problem. I don't know that I deep down believe, or understand that. I think I believe it, in the sense that I believe that He's God, and I've got a good enough grasp of the dictionary to know what words like "omnipotent," and "almighty," actually mean. But I don't know that I really understand it, that I really grasp it in my soul. I am sometimes underwhelmed by the power of God.

That's probably never a good place to be.

It leads to things like running. I've been thinking a lot about running recently. It's probably not kosher to say this, as I've been applying for a job at the church, and just got into AGTS. But it's true. I feel so completely inadequate to take on the work that I feel called to, that I've been thinking of running from God, from the church, from the call. Thinking of saying, "God, you've got the wrong girl." As though He could ever be wrong.

There's a problem though. I absolutely suck at running from God. I mean, I am really, really terrible at it. My best "running plan" is to become a "casual Christian." And I have never been able to pull that off. As a child, I prayed to a God I didn't know. As a teenager, I left the church feeling like they had Him wrong. In college, I wandered drunk calling out to Him. I would talk to coworkers so passionately of the example of the person of Christ, I'd be in tears. I moved here, and refused to leave a church I had major disagreements with, because I felt I'd been placed. Liberal theology, or conservative--casual spirituality is just not my thing.

If I try to run, I will be miserable. That's a fact. So what are my options? As usual, to keep walking. I guess?

Here's the real problem. I cry out to God, quite literally, but I know that the promises are there. I just have to believe them. I'm closing my heart, and calling out, and that's illogical. I'm holding on to some things that need to be released. Control, fear, certainty. And I can't claim that I don't know, or that I'm too young. So I get discouraged. I stink at faith. How do I make this work?

I don't. From the beginning, I've asked God to sustain my faith. Literally, to put faith where it just isn't there. To move my heart, to change it, to do everything that I can't do, which is...everything.

I have never stopped believing that He honors that prayer.

Hmm.

help.

Last week I was holding. This week, I think I might be drowning.

I'll be honest.

I'm not living this faith very well. I need help. I need guidance, and encouragement, and wisdom. I need for someone who is older and wiser to come alongside with me, and offer advice, and pray with and for me. Because I feel like I have absolutely no clue how to stay afloat at this stage in my faith.

I don't know what to do with my life. Some doors seem to be opening in great ways. Others seem to be opening, but I sense I shouldn't walk through them. Some I really wish would open, but they won't budge.

I'm afraid that I'm now too young in faith for the wisdom, and the courage I need to make it gracefully through this time. There are so many decisions in front of me right now, and so many that are seemingly life-defining.

I need help.

on hold.

I'm holding.

Seriously. I'm on hold.

Is that normal? Do you think that's valid? Let me explain.

I have a couple of big decisions right now. One of them is what to do about AGTS. The finances are not as neat as I had originally thought they would be, and I'm fairly certain that taking on more student debt at this point is not the route I should go. But, as I think about it, I feel a hand. Stop. Wait. Don't make the decision right now.

Um. Ok.

What does that mean? What am I waiting for? Is it a legitimate check? Or just my own heart and mind putting off the decision?

But again, and again. Stop. Wait. Not now. Hold on.

It's an odd sensation.

I was thinking the other day about how awesome it would be to live a life in patience for His Spirit. How incredible to be so entirely dependent for information. You know that's radical, right? I mean, for anyone, but particularly for me. I love information. It's my thing. I like to know about people, so I can predict their behavior. I like to know about things, so I can...know them. (Does anyone need any other reason for knowing than for sheer pleasure?) But to live in waiting. To see new knowledge. Knowledge that isn't given in books, or passed on in lecture. Those kinds of knowing certainly have their place. But the Spirit...

It occurred to me, at the end of all of this, that you live that life one Spirit-filled fact at a time. The more you listen, the more there is to hear.

So...I'm holding. I don't know why. I don't know until when. I could be wrong about the whole thing. But I'm holding.

completely cross.

I worry that I can't live up to the work I'm supposed to be doing for God. That I'm not smart enough. That I can't think quickly or deeply enough. Then that I'm not humble enough. That I don't have the right wisdom. That I'm not strong enough for what comes when you pray for, and work towards, helping people come to know God.

Maybe the worry is what comes. The worry is masking the arrogance of believing that I'm the one at work. That's the real sin that kills the glory. For me anyway.

And again, the cross is the key. People always say to stay close to the cross.

It's a short phrase that works on an incredible number of levels. And that works incredibly on each.

Right now, it reminds me that in my absolute worship of Christ, there's not time for worry. There's not reason for it, either. The work is complete.

now.

Now more than ever, I need Him. Whispering, I say, "Now more than ever, I need You."

I'm a big fan of words, obviously, but I have found that my words don't have much to do with God. Through them, I've learned of Him. And with them, I speak of Him. But at the end of it all, maybe at the beginning, they don't touch Him.

I'm trying to think of a way to write about worship. About longing, and grace, and moments spent in such absolute awe. I can describe that to you. I can tell you that when I lift my hands to God, I never feel safer. Never more right. At the end, my words are a poor substitute for the truth of the matter.

I'm thinking about this because those moments are real.

Last week, I met with the scholarship office at AGTS to talk about the logistics of my enrolling there. Tomorrow morning, I'll interview to actually work in ministry. Most every Sunday for over a year now, I've helped in production at James River. My thesis stands to possibly improve the way that new believer ministry is done. The church that was once a little intimidating is now entirely familiar and comfortable to me.

At the center of all of this stands still a Savior.

I pray to remember that in the midst of the craziness. I've had an odd experience so far. From foul-mouthed skeptic, to involved believer. I've had something of a rapid tour through the church. I've been given opportunities that seem...strangely advanced. I'll be honest. It's easy to begin thinking that I am somehow extra-blessed, more talented, smarter, or "marked." Easy and so terribly dangerous.

Oh, Father, protect me from that. Let me love You first and always, and too intensely to ever stray, to ever believe that whatever good in me comes apart from You, and can be rightfully used away from You.

Now more than ever, I need You.

country church.

Since coming to know Christ, I think the same thing every time I get out of my car to visit a different church...

"Could this have been the one?"

Could this church have helped me come to know God the way that James River has? If I had found this church first, what would my life look like now? Would I, in my skepticism, have tossed this place off as crazy, more of the same, confirmation for my liberal theology? Was it just my time? Would any church have done?

Obviously, I don't know.

I do know that when I think about what could have been, fear rises quickly. I have to remind myself that what could have been is not what is. That I'm safely with Christ, and no one can take the closeness we now share.

I wonder if what I'm feeling is common. When you come to Christ as an adult, and when you've struggled with Him for so long, there's some panic that comes with re-imagining that struggle. When I get out of the car, and I wonder how this might have gone differently, and I feel the fear, I also feel panic. A millisecond of panic before the joy.

What if I had decided I was too tired to go that first Sunday morning? What if my roommates had never mentioned that crazy megachurch I couldn't miss? What if I had stopped going last January when I was so close to stopping?

Then, the conscious reminder. You went. They mentioned. You kept going.

I remind myself...Ashley, you made it through. You're safe. I know that you feel the fear because for so long you fought so hard against God. I know that your mind flashes to a hundred unhappy moments lived so far from God. I know that you wonder if your mind can go dark on you yet--if you'll live again in the belief that uncertainty is certain. But you made it. And if there's any doubt about making it, look around. You didn't make it in a church that's comfortable to you. You found God in a pentecostal church. In a megachurch. Your first friends were wildly conservative. You fought through a glitter-infested womens' conference in your first month, back when you abhorred glitter. You got close to the culture, and have made it through all of the things that can be challenging about church cultures. You're safe. It's okay.

Then again, the best part of the reminder...

If I had done all of those things, I might have reason for panic. Maybe I'd be reaching the end of my own possibilities? I'd already have reached them. Thankfully, those things are all God. He has brought me through every hurtle. The panic is unnecessary because the reality is God's. That's the joy.

I don't know if that little church out on the country could have kept me when I first moved here. I probably would have passed out (not to be mistaken with being slain in the spirit) on a regular basis. I do believe there's a place for smart strategizing in the church. But, ultimately, that moment, that question, on my way into a new church, is a moment of praise.

It's a moment to remember that almost two years ago, I got out of the car, walked into a church, and that's when everything changed.