why i'll never be the same.

In one week, I leave the home I love.

Life as I know it will change. Things won't ever be the same again. I am leaving so many loved ones. Deserting so many possibilities. Giving up my sanctuaries, places filled with memory, rooms bursting with the times I grew into who I am today and spilling over with the moments when I stood bare before God. When I became His. I'm leaving it all behind.

My first instinct is to hide, and my first reaction is to fear.

Oh fear, cold fear.

Whenever change comes upon me, I moan and say, "I hate change." My mom looks me in the eyes, sees the daughter she knows well, and says, "I know." Adapting doesn't come easily to me. But worry does. Anxiety, overthinking, and paralysis do. They don't even take a snap of my fingers. Boom. They're there, my blood seeped in them.

And I hate that.

I do not want to be one consumed with fear, ruled by fear.
Fear enslaves. Fear doesn't come from God. Fear comes from the Prince of Darkness.

So I'm begging you, Jesus. Break the chains of fear. Burn the bonds that are wrapped 'round my wrists.

Love casts out fear. Your wounds, received for my sake, should cast out my fears. I shouldn't be afraid. I should be fearless.

Bold.

Unashamed.

Embracing all you have planned for me. Even when I can see no further ahead than my feet below me.

Oh Abba. Why do I have the spirit of fear, and not of adoption? I ache to have what you give. A spirit of adoption, my first reaction to be a cry out you, my first instinct to not be fear. . .but peace.

Peace which only sprouts from the confidence you give. Emerges from the light that shines from your face. Peace which is born from Faith.

Yes, oh yes! That is what I want. Faith.
Faith abounding.

That's what I want my blood to be seeped in.

Holy Spirit, fill me up to the overflowing. I need you. I can't bear any fruit without you. I have no gifts without you. I need you so that I won't stay the same. So that I'll be forever changed.

       I am, I'm leaving.

I'm leaving my father, my mother. I'm leaving my city, my friends, my past. Leaving possessions, papers, and panic. I'm leaving my house, my block, my room - all which are sights well-worn and places well-loved. I'm leaving all that. But do you know what I think?

I don't think I'm leaving my home, anymore.

Because home's not here, not there. It's not Seattle or Minneapolis.

Home's not a place.

Home is a person.

His name is Jesus.

from Futile to Faithful

I don't know what's wrong with me. This whole Senior year thing, though it's been wonderful in many ways, has been very hard for me. Especially when the future is brought up.

I know this is supposed to be normal, but you should see me. Whenever someone even tries to talk to me about college, my insides panic. My mind freezes. And I say things I regret just because all I want is to do is avoid, avoid, avoid. The subject, the thought, the vast void of unknown it is in my mind. I feel like I'm stranded on an iceberg. Don't ask me why that metaphor seems to fit, but it does. Maybe because it's cold on an iceberg, and shaky. Somehow that just fits.

Anyways, I feel like I have this idea in my mind of how it's supposed to be. Of how I'm going to decide where I'm going. I have this plan of making the decision internally, and explaining my thoughts on my process to someone else just seems too much. I don't know why. So I clam up and just fight for this ideal way I want to choose.

I have this vision of God leading me - somehow showing where I'm supposed to go. Whether that's through the closing of doors, my emotions, logical conclusions, revelation, words whispered in my ear, I don't know. And I don't know if this simple vision of mine is quite accurate. I'm desperately trying to just let go.

Put my trust in my Maker.

Because that's all it takes. That's all He asks of me. 

But it's not seeming to work. Maybe because anything based on works and not faith is sin. It's of the flesh, not the Spirit.

And I'm scared, because I'm living by the flesh and not by faith. All my trying, reaching, struggling is too much. It's baggage. Putting my trust in Him is all He asks of me.

And not more. By more, I mean all this stuff I've tried to add into the mix. Excuses, rigidness, trust in myself too. It just doesn't work. Because mixing up or praying this "magical formula" of getting to where I will be is futile.

God doesn't work like that.

His ways are mysterious. And that is all I know. That He knows what He's doing. Not me.

So I'm unclenching my fists.

Closing my eyes.

And letting His wind take me to where I'm supposed to be.