“Though I turn my back to leave…” –November 3, 2013

                …You come running after me, and when I come home, from broken roads, You are faithful, you are faithful”.

                Tonight, as I sip a cup of gingerspice coffee, the lyrics above (by a very talented young couple at my church) are refreshing my mind and filling my soul. I am intentionally resting—after a beautiful wedding yesterday that I was privileged to be a part of, after hitting the half way mark of my first quarter of grad school—and in an attempt to fight off a long-lasting cold/sinus infection.  But the real reason I need to rest—is because “in returning and rest is your salvation, in quietness and trust is your strength” (Isaiah 30:15). I need to rest in the truth that I am loved. I am loved for breathing, not for “handling” my busy schedule, a difficult client, being sick, etc. I am not defined by where I’ve let the ball trop, said what I should have kept silent, was silent when I should have spoken, or let my temper rule. No, I am not the sum of my mistakes or achievements—I am the sum of His blood, His death, His love.

                As I knelt in church today—I realized that he’s been running after me. Even when I’ve let busyness be my excuse, when I’ve claimed television is more relaxing than reading His word. When I’ve been so “on top of school” that I’ve conveniently not taken time to reflect and rest. I often find that it is in bodily sickness my soul is nourished—it forces me to slow down, to think, to re-evaluate how I spend my time.

                He has been running after me—inviting me to open up to him again. You see, yes I may still refer to Kenya a lot in conversations—but I’ve been really bad about discussing it with my heart. In the same way I’ve steeled my heart against the many “one year ago…” (and even, 5 years ago) anniversaries this time of year brings. I talked, but I didn’t allow myself to taste and see the good in the hard things. Today I realized I had become calloused towards spiritually based emotions—crying in church, being “moved” and expressing that. As I fought the urge to knee my mind screamed at my cracking heart “don’t do it. It hurts too much, it won’t make a difference anyway—the kids are still hungry and abused, the bodies are still in the graves, you’re still standing alone here, and you’re still wearing hearing aids”.


“What good will it do….” Hissed in my ears.


                To an extent those thoughts were true—my circumstances haven’t changed. But just like Isaiah was prophesying to the Israelites—it wasn’t that returning and rest would change their physical circumstance—it changed their heart towards God and save them. I am not saved by what I do but by whose I am. Even if I don’t deal with the messy emotional mess that the last year brought—I am loved. He runs after me even as I work to return from broken roads—He’s faithful.