These past few weeks I have been thinking intensely about my return trip home; I have been going over in my head what little things I can remember from when I was last home and wondering what home will be like when I get there. Thinking back to how life was for me before I left, all I can really remember is what it felt like... I had a lot of stress built up inside of me... stress from trying desperately to impress certain people, the stress of High School, and the stress of just trying to be a good daughter (to both my parents, the church, and the Father)... It took a lot of pride shattering during these few months in YWAM for me to truly recognize the orphan spirit and religiosity I had welling up inside of me.
Right before I started writing this I was listening to some music I used to listen to all the time before I left home... and it all brings back so much pain... I can remember what I was thinking and feeling when I would listen to certain songs... Pain of rejection, pain of guilt, pain of unforgiveness and frustration.
Ok, I am making home sound really really bad... NOT MY INTENTION. Home is home- it IS one of the ONLY places I feel truly accepted, nurtured, cared for, and loved. Home is the best place on earth in my opinion. What I am describing to you in the last two paragraphs is NOT my family or friends... its merely what I had decided to live for. I had decided to be made perfect in my own strength in hopes of impressing God, parents, and friends... as a result I had stress, guilt, fear, and I felt really fake...
There is this one day in particular during my lecture phase that has really stuck with me... Ivan Roman asked our class one question... "Who are you?" Not, "Who do you know?" Or "What can you do?" ...I was dumbstruck... all I felt was fear entering in to that question because I honestly had no clue who I was. I felt like a shell.... I had an outside, but my insides where just made up of replica's of things I had seen work on other people and sermons from pastors.
I could tell myself all day long that I was ok and end up believing it by the time I went to bed... but if I had been honest with myself.. I really wasn't. So why couldn't I just deal with it? Why couldn't I just go to God and get the answers?
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4efC8F98TNI
Well..... because I had forgotten the freedom I had in Him in order for me to do that. Its simple... the orphan spirit I had turned to prevented me from rejoicing in freedom. Just like Martha, I wanted to work to please God and the people around me. Just like the older brother in the story of the prodigal son, I was faithful to the Father and I stayed with Him, but that doesn't mean I took the time to just be His son. When you have freedom- you don't have guilt. When you have freedom- you have identity! You are simply His. I want to be Mary! Who sat at Jesus's feet in freedom! I want to be the prodigal son! Who returned to the Father covered in shame, but was instead greeted with pure love and freedom by the Father! Listening to the song I uploaded on my page made me remember this lesson in freedom. I have finally put off my old slave rags, the ones Jesus nailed to the cross, and have put on my glory robes! I can rejoice in failing! Because Jesus took care of it! I am FREE! I AM FREE! I AM FREE! Yes, I messed up yesterday when I got frustrated with my neighbor... but I don't have to wear the shame and guilt of it anymore! Jesus still welcomes me to sit at His feet and to dine on the fatted calf! Can I get an AMEN?!
Dust off that Freedom brothers and sisters! For He SO loves YOU!
A Warrior for the King,
Bekah
