I have this habit of keeping almost all of my correspondence. Just about every email I've written in the last decade is saved in my sent folder. I have a huge box of letters from my best friend in high school (before email). And I save emails I receive as well. I got a chance to reread some of those emails from before my life changed so drastically. It was like reading prose from a different person. Like I hadn't written it. I believed in people. I put myself out there. I wasn't afraid to make things happen. That restless drum I've written about? It drove me to make the world a better place. I was involved in an incredible church that offered amazing ministry opportunities, in which I was happy to play "Suzy-Churchgoer" and always tried to volunteer for. I was shocked at my candor and optimism. I was enthralled by my lack of mistrust and eagerness. Most of all, I was saddened that I've lost much of that. In exchanged for maturity and dare I say it, wisdom, I lost a sense of youthful hope. Instead of engaging people, I now hold them far away with sarcasm and skepticism.
That restless drum? It used to beat loudly with the beat of loneliness. It used to resound vehemently with fear. Now that I find it's more universal than I originally thought, I wonder if I should try and ignore it like most. Or if maybe...? Maybe it can be used to recapture part of the good I used to have. Maybe the drum can be used to engage others for Christ. (I'm aware this is not a new idea, but in the way I'm viewing it, it has new lenses on it.) It's more of a decision. I know the drum beat is not something to fear anymore. I know the restlessness drives me back to God. I know the restlessness comes from not being of this world. So... why not use it to build things that aren't for this world? Why not use it to better understand that the person I was and changed from wasn't a terrible person- just one who lacked clarity and maturity? But so much about her got lost in the shuffle.
Interesting, that I'm just realizing now, there were good things. I was a good friend. I'm not so much anymore. I shut the door on people, before they even have a chance to knock. It's time to break out of the protective little shell I made for myself when I was in crisis. Healing has come. It's time to minister again. It's time to be used for kingdom work again. It's the call of my heart. It's part of the restless drum.
I found myself sharing part of my story with someone that I did not expect to share with. And I kept asking God, while I was saying things, "Are you sure? Can I do this? He's a church person. I don't want church people knowing me. They hurt me last time. Are you sure I can tell my story to this person?" And it was very clear, I was being urged on. I am a sinner, saved by grace. What I have been through does not make God love me any less or extend less grace to me. Eventually, I'm going to have to trust people again. Eventually, what I've been through will need to be shared. It's part of me now. It's part of my testimony. It's how I found God. It's how I changed. It's who I am.
So... deep breath... my newest quest is to find how God wants me to listen to that restless drum and see where he leads me, most specifically, in ministry. I feel he has been preparing my heart. Where will it go from here? What will happen next?
(Do you hear the drum?)
That restless drum? It used to beat loudly with the beat of loneliness. It used to resound vehemently with fear. Now that I find it's more universal than I originally thought, I wonder if I should try and ignore it like most. Or if maybe...? Maybe it can be used to recapture part of the good I used to have. Maybe the drum can be used to engage others for Christ. (I'm aware this is not a new idea, but in the way I'm viewing it, it has new lenses on it.) It's more of a decision. I know the drum beat is not something to fear anymore. I know the restlessness drives me back to God. I know the restlessness comes from not being of this world. So... why not use it to build things that aren't for this world? Why not use it to better understand that the person I was and changed from wasn't a terrible person- just one who lacked clarity and maturity? But so much about her got lost in the shuffle.
Interesting, that I'm just realizing now, there were good things. I was a good friend. I'm not so much anymore. I shut the door on people, before they even have a chance to knock. It's time to break out of the protective little shell I made for myself when I was in crisis. Healing has come. It's time to minister again. It's time to be used for kingdom work again. It's the call of my heart. It's part of the restless drum.
I found myself sharing part of my story with someone that I did not expect to share with. And I kept asking God, while I was saying things, "Are you sure? Can I do this? He's a church person. I don't want church people knowing me. They hurt me last time. Are you sure I can tell my story to this person?" And it was very clear, I was being urged on. I am a sinner, saved by grace. What I have been through does not make God love me any less or extend less grace to me. Eventually, I'm going to have to trust people again. Eventually, what I've been through will need to be shared. It's part of me now. It's part of my testimony. It's how I found God. It's how I changed. It's who I am.
So... deep breath... my newest quest is to find how God wants me to listen to that restless drum and see where he leads me, most specifically, in ministry. I feel he has been preparing my heart. Where will it go from here? What will happen next?
(Do you hear the drum?)
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