Lingering by the Stream

The stone is smooth and heavy in my hand, glistening still, for I have just chosen it from among the countless thousands scattered across the riverbed. As I contemplate the dripping thing, a roar rises from the battlefield on the other side of the hill. The enemy is cheering on their champion. I swallow heavily, attempting to bring moisture to my dry mouth. My knuckles turn white as I clench my fist around the stone. My whole body is shaking.

I'm shaking my head as I remember my bold words: "Your servant has killed both the lion and the bear." I was so brave and confident just moments ago, before I left the camp and came down here by myself, to loosen up my throwing arm and choose my weapons. I know that God is with me; I know He will bring me success this day. Why, then, does fear coil in my stomach like a poisonous serpent?

I plunge the stone into the pouch slung over my shoulder and numbly begin to search for another. Just in case I miss my first shot, I think. I'm trembling so much, the thought is not unrealistic. When I first saw that giant man and heard him bellowing his obscenities, I was so angry that I could not imagine doing anything but going down to fight him. Now I contemplate fleeing.

But if I do not go down and fight him, who will? I think of all the seasoned warriors who are at this moment shaking in their armor, and my heart faints within me. In my mind, I know that I have been anointed, consecrated, set apart for this holy purpose of the LORD's. But all my conviction, all my passion, all my courage has deserted me. Why now? Why, in my hour of desperate need, do I lose heart?

As I drop another stone into my bag, I suddenly realize that I have collected a small arsenal. Five smooth stones, each bigger and heavier than the one before. My bag is dragging on my shoulder, the weight of my weapons pulling me down. I erupt in laughter as the absurdity of this hits me like a dash of cold water to the face. These stones are like pebbles when compared to the titanic weapons of the giant; he is superior to me in every way. For the first time since descending to this stream, I remember that it is not my weapons or my prowess that guarantee my victory.

At what point did I cease to trust in God and begin to rely only on my own strength? At what point did I forget that nothing is too hard for Him? He has delivered me from the paw of the lion and the paw of the bear; certainly He can strengthen my arms of weakness and steady my feeble knees. In His Spirit, I will triumph.

"'Not by might nor by power, but by my Spirit,' says the LORD Almighty."

-Zechariah 4:6b

I square my shoulders and shield my eyes from the sun as I look over the crest of the hill I must mount before I go down into the Valley of Elah to face my giant. My steps are hesitant and faltering, but I begin to walk. I do not walk alone.

"But the LORD is with me like a mighty warrior."

-Jeremiah 20:11a

Poem By An Unknown Author

(This poem was sent to me moments ago by a very dear friend, Hope Bilbrey.)

I made her...she is different. She is unique.
With love I formed her in her mother's womb.
I fashioned her with great joy.
I remember with great pleasure the day I created her.

I love her smile. I love her ways. I love to hear her laugh
And the silly things she says and does.
She brings me great pleasure. This is how I made her.

I made her pretty and not beautiful.
I wanted her to search out her heart and learn that
it would be Me in her that would make her beautiful...
And it would be Me that would draw others to her.

I made her in such a way that she would need me.

I made her a little more lonesome than she would like to be...
Only because I need for her to learn and depend on Me.
I know her heart. I know that if I had not made her like this,
She would go her own chosen way
And forget Me... her Creator.

Because I love her, I have seen her broken heart...
and the tears she cried alone.
I have cried with her and had a broken heart too.

Many times she has stumbled and fallen alone...
Only because she would not hold my hand.
So many lessons she's learned the hard way
because she would not listen to My voice.

So many times I have sat back and sadly
watched her go her merry way alone...
Only to watch her return to my arms,
sad and broken.

And now she is Mine again.
I made her, and I bought her...
Because I love her.

I have to reshape and remold her
To renew her to what I planned for her to be
It has not been easy for her or for Me.

I want her to be conformed to My image.
This high goal I have set for her...

Because I love her

To Shame the Strong

There you go again

Putting on that smile again

Even though I know you've had a bad day

Doing this and doing that

Always putting yourself last

A whole lot of give

And not enough take

But you can only be strong so long

Before you break

So fall

Go on and fall apart

Fall into these arms of Mine

I'll catch you

Every time you fall

Go on and lose it all

Every doubt, every fear

Every worry, every tear

I'm right here

Baby, fall

(Fall, Clay Walker)

The past several weeks have been crazy. I've never been so emotionally all over the place in my life. My dominant emotion, however, has been fear. Experiencing the culture shock of coming to school here at MACU has opened my eyes to a weakness in me that I did not know existed. I had buried it so deeply and hidden it so well that it took a complete removal from my natural habitat in order to bring it out into the open. And so the word of God is found to be true again:

"There is nothing concealed that will not be disclosed, or hidden that will not be made known."

-Luke 12:2

I AM AFRAID TO LET PEOPLE GET TOO CLOSE. There; I've written it and published it for all the world to see. I am a very social person, and I like people, but very few people know more than my surface level. Most of my circle of friends know only the shiny exterior of my personality. The few people who know me more intimately have some idea of what goes on in my head, but even to them I present a strong and collected front, carefully keeping them at arms' length, lest they look too closely and see what I'm trying to hide.

I'm standing in a crowded room

And still I stand alone

No one seems to notice me

I am on my own

But I know that they are watching

And I know that they can see

And I have to be careful

Or they might catch a glimpse of me

The real me

Who tries to be invisible

The real me

Who stands in the background

Pretending not to be

The real me

(The Real Me, a song I wrote years ago)

I had never realized how desperately lonely I am. Even when I am surrounded by people, loneliness shrouds my soul. I am lonely, I think, because I am always hiding. I have become proficient at projecting a strong and confident persona even when I am trembling inside and almost in tears. Its as though I am two people. One of those people is a mature Christian who knows the truths of God's word and loves him with all her heart. The other is a frightened, sobbing five-year-old girl who isn't sure of anything.

I am not gentle with that young and tender part of my heart. I frequently order her to shut up and grow up and leave me alone. She is an inconvenience. I must drag her along, whining and crying, no matter where I go. Isn't it a terrible thing, to hate a part of yourself? You cannot get away from yourself! I wonder what would happen if I treated that part of myself the way I try to treat everybody else, not as a burden or as an annoyance, but as a human being with legitimate feelings and fears. I am not made of stone, however much I would like it to be otherwise.

I've been amazed by the number of people here at school who have seen through my facade. They don't let me hide behind my sage advice and big vocabulary words. Even if they have to drag it out of me, they get me to admit my fears. Those fears are more deeply rooted and more numerous than I could have ever imagined. I think, in some ways, I've thrown myself into doing big things for God so that I would not have to look at all the small fractures in my life.

I am a flawed piece of Waterford Crystal that has somehow made it almost to the end of the line. I reflect the light beautifully, but that flaw (hidden so well) is going to make me crack later on in my life. Luckily for me, the crystal is put through a series of tests, and if it fails even one, it is sent back down the line, crushed and remade. I have failed a test at last, and now God can break me down and remake me... one more time.

"But God chose the foolish things of the world to shame the wise; God chose the weak things of the world to shame the strong."

-1 Corinthians 1:27

The hardest thing for me is resisting the urge to hide my weaknesses. However, it is through my weaknesses that God's strength will be most gloriously displayed.

There's no such thing as perfect people

There's no such thing as a perfect life

So come as you are, broken and scarred

Lift up your heart and be amazed and be changed

By a perfect God

(Perfect People, Natalie Grant)