In the absence of wild revelation

[if you receive my newsletter, this is just a slightly meatier version of the lesson I shared about learning]

A few days ago, my DTS returned to base after a week-long backpacking trip through Fraser Island. Fraser is the world's largest sand island, and it hosts a confusingly wide variety of gorgeous landscapes: We trekked alongside the bluest shorelines, through thriving jungle-y interiors, across dreamy (and challenging) sand dunes, and splashed around in glittering freshwater lakes. The trip was beautiful and difficult and exhausting and freeing and full. I developed hip blisters and saw exactly 3 huntsman spiders and learned what I smell like when you subtract soap. I also got to fill up my lungs with clean air and take the time to observe the exact hue of early morning sunlight and rejoice in freedom from text messages and mirrors. It was a good, hard pause from the normal rhythm of life.

To be completely honest, I expected a grand revelatory experience there among the clutter of trees and electric yellow birds and crystalline (sometimes red) lakes...and I didn't have one. I kept waiting to be smacked in the face by spiritual understanding, or brought to my knees in unprecedented awe, and I never was.

And I'm learning how okay that is. I want to cultivate a sense of awe of my Creator; I want to continually desire breakthrough in my relationship with Him; I don't think it's wrong to look forward to those revelatory moments with the Lord. But I think God is teaching me that friendship with Him doesn't look like this perpetual stream of overwhelming emotional encounters. My earthly friendships involve emotional moments, but the bulk of the friendship is composed of casual conversation, laughter, comfortable quiet, small gestures. And I think those relationships - like so much else in this life - were created to echo how things should/could work in our relationship with the Lord.

So I spent last week chatting with God on the trails about my dreams and my fears. He sat next to me as I pulled my knees up to my chest to listen to each morning's lecture, as I stirred the bubbling camp oatmeal, as I unrolled and re-rolled my sleeping mat each morning and afternoon. He laughed with me (kindly) when I tripped over a root; He breathed refreshment into my tired body when I plunged in the cold lake water each night; He wrapped His arms around me when sunlight poured through the leafy ceiling and warmed me up.

And being comfortable with Him in those ordinary moments, having the confidence that He is casually and tenderly and perpetually present in our lives, is what positions our hearts to be transformed, and frees our minds to understand, and opens up our hands to receive. Believing that He is near to me and involved in my life, not just as sovereign Lord but as my close friend, is what creates space in my life for Him to come and move. That's what stirs my affections and prepares the way for growth. Because acknowledging Him in those unremarkable moments helps my little heart grasp that He loves me in simple, tangible, profound ways; it closes the gap between heaven and earth because it exercises the reminder that the Holy Spirit has taken up residence in my heart, in the nitty gritty, in the dull or sluggish, in right now. When I'm struggling or feeling particularly unworthy, I revert to thinking of God on His throne in heaven, straining to hear my prayers... But that distance is just a barrier made up by my brain, and it can be taken down by my brain when I practice acknowledging God as a present and careful and real friend.

So I'm here, back on base, learning what it means to be friends with the Lord. It isn't a series of mountain top experiences, but it's transformative. What powerful, sweet relationship He offers to us.

As near as you want to be.

This week, my DTS is learning about "The Nature and Character of God." The speaker kicked off the lecture series by saying: "You are as close to God as you want to be." My pride immediately bowed up at that, because it means I have to take responsibility for how near I am to God. "That's not fair," I thought, "What if God doesn't want to show Himself to me in abundance right now? What if He's being quiet, even when I'm pressing in?"

But the more I thought about it, the more I agreed with the speaker. God sent His Son, the only one who is fully innocent, the only one who never transgressed against God and therefore never deserved death, to die a painful, shameful, drawn-out, bloody death...just so that the price of our sin could be paid, and we could draw near to Him as sons and daughters, washed whiter than snow. He paid the highest price so that we might know Him intimately and personally, not having to draw near through the means of sacrifices or priests. He died for relationship - real, moving, breathing, dynamic relationship - with us. Romans 8:32 says: "He who did not spare His own Son but gave Him up for us all, how will He not also with Him graciously give us all things?" If He allowed His Son to die an unjust death so that I might draw near to Him, why do I think He would be unwilling to reveal Himself to me, to grant me revelation of His character, to allow me to draw near to Him?

This is the God who didn't wait for the prodigal son to walk down the path, didn't even walk to meet him - this is the Father who RAN to meet him (Luke 15:20.) This is the God who went looking for the one sheep, despite the effort it required and the fact that there were ninety-nine sheep that were just fine (Luke 15:3-7.) This is the God who comes for us, even when we're stupid, even when it makes no logical sense to be valued by Him - why would I allow myself to believe that He might withhold Himself from me?

I know that God revealing Himself to us looks different in different seasons - I have gone through seasons where the Lord felt silent despite my efforts to draw near. The fact that you can determine your nearness to God isn't supposed to bring shame or heaviness. It doesn't mean that if you're moving towards God and you don't feel God moving back, you aren't doing enough; those are the initial thoughts that made me recoil from the speaker's statement. What it means is that God is present and available, and we get to direct our will to either invite Him in and enable Him to move in our lives...or not. Even in the quiet, hard seasons, we get to determine whether we're going to keep pressing in and hold out for the intimacy that will result when the tough season is over, or whether we're going to let go and see a different outcome.

"You are as close to God as you want to be." That has become an encouragement to me, and I'm sharing it because I hope it becomes an encouragement to you. If you want to know God as father, healer, friend; if you want to know what God thinks and how He feels; if you want to know what makes Him smile or cry or laugh...you get to. If you want more intimacy with God, you get it! The means and the timing of the lessons taught to bring that intimacy might look different than you expect, but the bottom line is that He's ready and available and in love with you, desiring intimate relationship with you more than you could ever possibly desire relationship with Him. There is no scheme of the devil, no outside force, no internal shortcoming or weakness that can prevent you from knowing God more.

You are as close to God as you want to be; take heart.

College + beyond

And so begins my last week in the cracked house with the overgrown lawn. It is so wild to stuff my stuff into boxes and realize my time here is closing. Who knew this sprawling, sleepish, maroon city would break and build so much in me. These past three years have dragged/stumbled/sprinted by, and looking back from the tail end of it, I can't believe the things the Lord has done. Coming to college, God prompted the end of my long-standing high school relationship. He ruined my plans to join a sorority. He refused to help me to connect to the church I originally envisioned myself at. He created a rift between me and my very best friend. He let me spend half of my freshman year ambling around campus in the dark, crying because I didn't understand why moving towards Him made everything else start falling apart.

And then. Then, He brought me into the most dynamic group of ragtags who taught me what love and emptiness and hope look like. He broke down so many fears and idols that I didn't even realize were crushing me until I was free from them. He restored the friendship I almost lost, making it deeper and more full than before. He let me exchange my small plans for big ones. He gave me friends who raised money to pay for my broken car, who have asked me to stand by them on their wedding day. He gave me so much more than I would have known to ask for. He revealed to me how every disappointment has the potential to give way to something incredible, if you hold on long enough to watch Him work.

I don't really know what happens post-college, and I don't really care. I've got the safety net of a loving Father who time and time again has proven Himself faithful to me. He's taught me that it just takes holding on long enough to watch Him work.
So, cheers to whatever comes next!