I’ve never really been interested in a strategic plan. That could be the reason I spend most of my days floating. Flowing. Listening for that still small voice that says, This is it. I’ve never been one who was really interested in waiting. I mean if I have an expectation, then waiting isn’t all that bad. Waiting for a start, however? That’s a different story. Waiting on a human to do something for me? Absolutely not. Waiting on the approval of others? Not my style. When I’m backed into a corner where I’m forced to wait, I find it brings out the best in me, creatively. So I’ve learned how to push past the initial frustration. Once I crack that surface, I enter the deep never-ending abyss of my internal creativity. I love it there. There I can dream vividly. Almost like in three dimensions. How do I pull that world into my everyday reality?
I didn’t come to Jesus to be stuck. I came to Him for freedom. Freedom from my past, from fears, from myself. From the things that I can’t stop doing on my own, from the nightmares that have been plaguing my brain since childhood. I came to Jesus for life. Now He has a way, a method—I respect that. When I’m sitting in a church pew and the “Christians have stale faces and defeated lives,” void of joy and creativity, that I can’t understand. I didn’t sign up for that. So it’s like I’m left floating in this realm that I can’t even see or understand. I have this love relationship with my creator, for His people, with no place to express it.
I go to church and they don’t get it. I don’t get it, either. And we’re serving the same God? I’m reminded that my eyes are to stay focused on Him, not to look to the left or the right. Here comes that focus again. Guess there is no way around that. He presses on my heart that if I can’t see it, it’s for me to create. I’ll never create it if I don’t focus. My life has been a series of this exact same revelation. Once I get to this point, I walk away. Maybe because I realize how much work this will entail. How much faith, discipline. Maybe I’m addicted to pain. Or I like playing the victim. I could be lazy. Whatever the excuse, I realize that if I don’t do something, my soul will never rest.
Why do we run from our destiny? Always running from the truth. Why do I run from my destiny? I have a love-hate relationship with the come up. Addicted to talking about it, but the minute it looks in my direction I duck. I curse it constantly, daring it to pursue me. Behind the flex is a tormented, terrified soul. I know I’m not enough. Not worthy. I know that if I accept this truth I can no longer run. Run from truth. From faith. From discipline. From perseverance. From destiny.