Running Free

My dead heart now is beating

My deepest stains now clean

Your breath fills up my lungs

Now I'm free

Into marvelous light I'm running

Out of darkness

Out of shame

By the cross

You are the Truth

You are the Life

You are the Way

("Marvelous Light," by Charlie Hall)

"I run in the path of Your commands, for You have set my heart free."

-Psalm 119:32, NIV

I sat here for a moment with writer's block, repeating that verse quietly to myself. It was a verse I stumbled upon very early in the year, and without knowing why, I decided to make it my theme verse for 2009. Something about it beckoned me. I could not have named the longings a year ago, but what I yearned for was a heart set free from self-righteousness and legalism. I greatly desired not only to follow God, but to run after Him; to pursue Him with reckless abandon.

The condition of my captive heart was not unknown to me; I knew of the secret wounds and tolerated sins. I knew that these were crippling flaws that would most certainly rear their ugly heads and attempt my destruction at some point. But I did not have the strength to fight them; I had spent what little strength I had fleeing from them. It was only a matter of time until they caught me up.

"The sins of some men are obvious, reaching the place of judgment ahead of them; the sins of others trail behind them."

-1 Timothy 5:24, NIV

I had run from the battle for so long, I knew no other way. God, however, would not tolerate my resignation. He would not permit me to bear the burden, to trudge on alone in determined silence while still under it's weight. So, like Aslan in C. S. Lewis' The Horse and His Boy, He Himself began to chase after me. To be pursued by God is a fearful thing. I ran harder, but my strength at last failed me. I stumbled and fell; my fears caught up with me; the worst was upon me... and He delivered me.

It was painful to allow the removal of the things which hindered me; the only thing I can compare it to is that prickling, tingling, on-fire feeling of circulation returning to a limb that has fallen asleep. My heart had almost ceased to beat; my thumos had nearly dissipated. About to black out in shallow water, instead I broke the surface and drew breath.

God restored my child's heart, and my warrior's spirit. He restored my compassion, and my courage. It happened slowly, and almost took me by surprise... but I marveled at and delighted in it. Now, with restored vigor, I look ahead to the coming year, laugh in Satan's face and say, "Bring it on." And with a grin I lace up my running shoes and set off on the path God has set before me--straight and narrow--my burdens lifted, running free.

Remembrance, Not Regret

It's been a bad day

You've been looking back

And all you can see is everything you wish you could take back

A world of regrets

All of those moments you would rather forget

I know it's hard to believe

Let me refresh your memory

Yesterday is history

And history is miles away

So leave it all behind you

But let it always remind you of the day

The day that love made history

You know you can't stay

Right where you fell

The hardest part is forgiving yourself

But let's take a walk into today

And don't let your past get in the way

Would you believe that you are history in the making?

Every choice that you are making

Every step that you are taking

Every chain that you are breaking

History is in the making

Every word that you are saying

Every prayer that you are praying

Every chain that you are breaking

History is in the making

("History," by Matthew West)

"Therefore I will always remind you about these things, even though you already know them and are standing firm in the truth you have been taught. And it is only right that I should keep on reminding you as long as I live."

-2 Peter 1:12-13, NLT

I think of my life as a story, and as the New Year approaches, I find myself looking over the past year in much the same way I would thumb through the pages of a well-loved and much-read book. So much has taken place over the course of a single year! There have been many milestones, and so much growth. I have shared laughter and tears in abundance. I have stumbled and fallen many times, but God in His infinite mercy and grace has never failed to lift me up again.

"May you never forget what is worth remembering, nor ever remember what is best forgotten."

-Irish Blessing

However, even with my new understanding and appreciation of grace, it is still so easy to give way to despair when I look back on the dark periods of this year. There's no way around it, no way to avoid the painful fact that I fell hard this year, no escape from the regret. I appreciate and even cherish the lessons learned through those difficult times, but I cannot help but wish I were not so stubborn that I had to learn them the hard way!

Even as I write this paragraph, tears fill my eyes. They are hot tears; frustrated, angry tears. Each memory is like a whiplash, but I do not stop turning them over in my mind, because I feel that I deserve that pain. But even as I try to inflict this heart-wrenching punishment on myself, a nail-pierced hand descends on my shoulder, and I turn to fall into arms stretched as wide as the east is from the west. It is on the shoulder of Christ that these tears are spent.

He took my punishment, which I do indeed deserve, on Himself. He paid the debt, once for all. Every sin I have committed, and every sin I will ever commit, is already covered by His blood. Though my heart may ache at these memories, His was broken for me.

"This is love: not that we loved God, but that He loved us and sent His Son as a atoning sacrifice for our sins."

-1 John 4:10, NIV

And so my Savior, my love, brushes the tears from my cheeks. I can see the love in His eyes. He holds out His hands and asks me, one more time, to hand over these regrets. Tremblingly, I do so, and one more time He does what I cannot do for myself and throws them all to the wind. What awesome love, what stunning grace, that will not permit me the pain of regret, however well-deserved.

I understand that these memories will remain, like scars. The wounds will heal, yes, but they will leave a permanent mark. I have been forgiven; I am forgiving myself. But I cannot forget... and perhaps I am not supposed to. As I sit here at my keyboard, embraced by God, I begin to understand that I am to remember, but not regret.

"Dear brothers and sisters, when troubles come your way, consider it an opportunity for great joy. For you know that when your faith is tested, your endurance has a chance to grow. So let it grow, for when your endurance is fully developed, you will be perfect and complete, needing nothing."

-James 1:2-4, NLT

My favorite thing to do when reading a boring or difficult chapter in a book, is to flip to the end and skim a few pages, just to see how everything works out. It is always encouraging to me; though I do not know all the story in between, just knowing that it works out in the end is enough. This 'preview,' if you will, invigorates me as a reader, and I eagerly plunge back into the difficult chapter, so that I can get on with the story.

I'm doing something similar with the story of my life. Just by skimming the good things God has in store for me, I gain the strength to press forward and endure right now.

"History never looks like history when you are living through it. It always looks confusing and messy, and it always feels uncomfortable."

-John W. Gardner

My life is history in the making. One day I will look back on where I am right now, and I will be able to see everything that I could not when I was still living in the moment. On that day, I will be able to say that it was worth all the pain. Until then, I will hold to that hope.

The Warrior is a Child

Lately I've been winning battles left and right

But even winners can get wounded in the fight

People say that I'm amazing

I'm strong beyond my years

But they don't see inside of me

I'm hiding all the tears

They don't know that I come running home when I fall down

They don't know who picks me up when no one is around

I drop my sword and cry for just a while

Because deep inside this armor

The warrior is a child

Unafraid because His armor is the best

But even soldiers need a quiet place to rest

People say that I'm amazing

I never face retreat

But they don't see the enemies

That lay me at His feet

They don't know that I come running home when I fall down

They don't know who picks me up when no one is around

I drop my sword and cry for just a while

Because deep inside this armor

The warrior is a child

They don't know that I come running home when I fall down

They don't know who picks me up when no one is around

I drop my sword and look up for His smile

Because deep inside this armor

The Warrior is a Child

("The Warrior is a Child," by Gary Valenciano)

I sighed as I finished copying those lyrics. I sighed because I am contented, relieved, and somewhat awed by those words. God loves me. I am His child. For the first time in my life... that is enough.

"How great is the love the Father has lavished on us, that we should be called children of God!"

-1 John 3:1, NIV

When I was home in October for Fall Break, my mother asked me a heartbreaking question that shook my faith. "If you could not do what you do--if you could not go to school, become a missionary, or serve God in any way--would it be enough that you are His child?" And the answer fell unbidden from my lips: "No." No? It was not enough for me to simply be God's child? I was appalled at my response, and tears fell from my eyes.

All my life I have been "so grown up," "so mature for your age," and "an old head on young shoulders." One person even went so far as to tell me that I must have been "born forty years old." Immaturity and childishness were something I looked down upon... even when I was a child myself. This realization crashed down upon me as I heard my response to my mother's question. I love children; their curiosity and creativity, their fearlessness and faith, is admirable and beautiful to me. But somewhere along the way, I stopped loving the child that I was. God, however, did not.

I was never much of a child. To be a child--or rather, to have the needs of a child--was inconvenient. There was no time or money for me to have constant desires, so I learned to desire nothing that I could not obtain for myself. I did my best to stay out of the way and never cause a fuss; my family's troubles were more than enough without my adding to them.

There is no way for me to adequately explain how I learned to shut off every outward showing of fear, disappointment and depression. Oftentimes, when what I most wanted was to be held while I cried, I would throw myself into work instead. I busied myself in order to cover up the secret ache; the pain and heartbreak of the child within. I was not kind to that child; she was kept locked in a dark room, and she was beaten if she dared to make her voice heard.

I became as hard as stone. I became an armored warrior, a knight who rode about rescuing others. I fought for depth; I fought for truth; I fought for the right to higher expectations. I stood in the gap for my friends and loved ones and fought for them through intercessory prayer. And I worked to train other warriors. People saw the armor, but they never saw the child.

It was not until I came to MACU that I began to learn that it is all right to be a child. It is, in fact, more than all right. It is what God desires.

"[Jesus] said to them, 'Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these. I tell you the truth, anyone who will not receive the kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it.'"

-Mark 10:14-15, NIV

I've learned to play; I've learned to laugh until I cannot breathe; I've learned to let someone hold me while I cry; I've learned to be loved for myself... not for the things that I do. And through all this I've learned, bashfully peering up through my eyelashes with a blush on my cheeks, that my Father delights in me, as His child. I have known it. I have sensed it. But for the very first time, I actually believe it. It is glorious.

My answer to my mother's question has changed. It is enough for me, that I am God's child. It is more than enough.