I will admit it. My thoughts aren’t super noble.
I heart burritos. I wish I hadn’t heard that cow-tipping inflicts pain on cows, because I want to try it so badly on the ones I can hear mooing from where I sit on the playground. I love Facebook. I like B.o.B. I secretly dream of being a white female rapper. I kick it like Adidas, flowin’ sticky like adhesive.
But out here, in the middle of a Southern cow pasture, big thoughts sit in easier reach, a little more real. There’s no need to pretend airplanes are shooting stars. The stars here are stinkin’ huge. They dip and streak and drown out the airplanes.
It’s easier to hear yourself. It’s easier to hear Him. It’s underscored by multiple dozens of focused folks.
I have even fewer excuses than usual.
I’m surrounded by legit-itude.
Tonight as a few dozen of us sang and prayed, I wept a little. Have you ever been so struck with a feeling of His faithfulness that it invokes an emotional response from your deepest gut? I am so undeserving of His mercy. In the days leading up to this move, my soul and mind gave ascent to the call, but my heart at times dug in its heels about leaving people behind.
My heart loves tightly. Driving away in a black HHR – no matter how fly he may be – rips me apart a little.
I felt it again tonight. I knew the feeling when it came. It welled up in me much like it did in July, except this time it was over the deep friendships I’ve made in just the past eight weeks. Girls who leave by way of the windows, make their own peanut butter, dry their hair on the swing set and love on each other constantly. Just like the stars are closer here, more intense, so is the bond of people all going through such an intense and similar life change – or being led simultaneously by Him through one.
Not new goodbyes. Not again. Are you kidding me.
But then just as strongly as the feeling came, another overpowered it – a flood of His faithfulness. First my heart was seized with the feeling that just as I had broken leaving home, God had provided exactly what I needed here. As much as I hate to leave, I know He’ll meet me on the other side of the pond in my little British flat and provide for me in ways I don’t even know how to ask for, in the way only He knows is best.
Then came the second wave: how selfish are my thoughts. How could I ask to hold tightly to a roomful of people poured out for Him to be spent as He chooses on the nations?
My heart changed to a song of thanks that gripped my soul and a prayer of brokenness for the peoples who haven’t even had a chance to hear the Name that brings the hope I have.
One week left here. That’s all. May these people I love be broken, scattered with abandon and poured out as a fragrant offering.