It’s been a long time since I’ve written, and there are two main reasons for that. For one, I’ve been incredibly, unorthodoxly busy.
How busy, you ask? Well, I’ve moved, dealt with my car getting broken into, had said car towed, visited Cedar Point, and hiked around Colorado. Needless to say, writing has been forefront in my mind but not in my schedule.
The roller coasters were fun. I’d forgotten how much I enjoyed the trill of dangling oneself on death-defying drops and plunging around corners at 100 miles an hour. It’s invigorating! And, much to the dismay of the people near me, I screamed the entire time. My older brother can attest to the fact that I am a very, very, very loud screamer. I feel like I should apologize for the shrill nature of my enjoyment, but it truly is a part of how I participate in roller coasters!
When I feel fully alive, I respond accordingly. Most of the time, that means breathing deep and smiling ear-to-ear. Other times, it means screaming at the top of my lungs.
And maybe that– my raw, tired throat after Cedar Point– was what got me thinking about my voice. As the Youth Group piled into the van and we drove back to Indianapolis, I fitfully slept and prayed. Sometime around one or two a.m., it dawned on me: I’d lost my voice.
Not my physical voice. No, I was talking just fine- though I’m not sure how. On that bus ride, I realized that I’d somehow lost my voice as a writer. I’d grown dull over the past few months, felt dry when I thought about writing. I’d grown mute.
I knew why. I just didn’t want to face it.
Turns out, when your heart starts to wander, your priorities change; and I’d been wrestling with that since March. From the outside, I had a myriad of excuses as to why I was wading into shallow waters of faith. I had just graduated. I had a new job, a new home, a new roommate, and a new understanding of what “adulthood” really is.
As I tried to find a rhythm, anxiety took hold and isolation set in. Fear became god and God became “the one who’s going to tell me to let go.” I didn’t want to let go.
Did you know God created storms? Big powerful, thundering storms. Psalm 29 talks about it but I’m not sure I really considered it until a short while ago. It wasn’t until I was sitting on a cold hard staircase facing the aftermath of a panic attack, that I stared into the jet black clouds and longed for the One who’d created them.
See, it’s important to truly understand that God is the mastermind behind the beautiful, powerful gales. It is important to understand that God is the creator of electric bolts of lightening and pounding shards of rain.
He created them and He is Lord over them.
And that night, I realized for the first time that if I see a fierce storm and immediately acknowledge the power it holds, I must also recognize the supremely powerful God who created it. And if I see the storms of fear in my own life and acknowledge the power they hold, I must also recognize the supremely powerful God who created me.
Fear and anxiety are oh so real, but they aren’t greater than our God. They aren’t stronger than His loving arms that extend to us every single time we wander. I am truly in awe of that and thankful for it.
I’m done harboring fear and hiding it from God. I’m done spending more time in anxiety than I am in the Word, and I hope you are too. I hope we can walk this journey together, unabashedly in pursuit of the One who brings our hearts– and the sky– to life.