My last day of class was yesterday. I feel like I've been doing this forever. But that last day never gets old. When you walk out of class for the last time, look around, and realize you survived. You did what you thought you couldn't do. You thought there wasn't going to be enough money. You thought you weren't intelligent enough. Just when you thought you were too tired.
Suddenly you're done. And you did well.
What's interesting about the end of this semester for me is it also signifies the end of a season. A very long, beautiful, hard, dirty, growing season.
God has been giving me lots of pictures lately. Pictures of gardens and tall towers.
Lots of words too.
Concrete. Consistent. Congruent. Cultivate. Reinforce. Rest. Thirst. Sabbath. Continuity.
I have renamed my blog just for the sake of this new season.
In Medias Res means "in the very middle of things". For so long this has been my story. I have been right in the very middle. I've been on the front lines of battle, getting dirty, and pouring myself out.
Especially this year.
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A few months ago my car broke down on the side of the road -- blowing steam and overheating. While I waited on the side of the road, with my hood up, a man wearing sunglasses walked up to me and asked if I needed any water. He meant water to use as coolant. You know, to put in the car.
But my spirit registered his words as something much deeper. When I went to church, just a few minutes later, my spirit's reaction was confirmed by Jon's words. A sermon about being a spiritual zombie -- about being dry and thirsty.
And about the living water Jesus has to offer.
I am so tired. And so thirsty.
A tower, which has been built tall and wobbly. Like a Jenga tower: in desperate need of reinforcement.
I am a garden in a cultivation season. Needing rain and weed-pulling and lots of extra nutrients.
But I didn't make any changes. In was in the full swing of things. Too much momentum to quit.
I can just imagine God waiting patiently as I tried to keep going about my business. While I was coming up with things to do. Hitting roadblock after roadblock. Jumping hurdles and continuously losing energy.
I'd complain to Him about being exhausted. And there He was, with His arms crossed over his chest, nodding slowly. He knew. "It's time to stop for a while..."
Anna.
Anna.
He gave some wise words to a friend the other day. I was crying to her, telling her some of my recent struggles.
About how I wanted something to be proud of. About the shame and embarrassment I'd been hiding about changing my mind about the World Race. About wanting to be a part of the harvest. About pride. About loneliness. About ministry. About exhaustion.
She looked at me and said,
"Anna, you are a builder. Everything you have, you've created. Some people are handed things, some people have their lives formed for them. You've had to make something out of nothing. This life you have, these passions of yours, have been cultivated by you and by God. No wonder you're tired."
It felt good to hear these words. To have someone recognize how hard I have worked to get here. To have this explanation for why it has taken me so freaking long to get to this point. I have had to work long and hard. And will continue to have to work long and hard. By the grace of God I am who I am... and by the grace of God I will not remain so.
There are some who have worked longer and harder than I have. So many who have so much less. So many who envy this life I lead. Because, in all honesty, this is a good life. This is a good, good life. And despite everything, I wouldn't change a thing.
I am a builder.
She paused.
"But your hands are full. And if you want to pick anything else up at all, you're going to have to lay something down."
The Spirit, I think, had been hanging out under my arms for some time. Waiting for a verbal word like that to reach my ears. I felt Him punch my arm. "I told you so..." He whispered, in the gentle, gracious way only the Spirit can. "I've been trying to tell you exactly what Bonnie just told you. Will you please listen now? Come to me..."
It's been a few weeks since then. The end is now imminent.
He is calling me. Standing just a little way off in the distance, beckoning me and calling my name. On a new horizon. Waiting on me.
So it's just about time.
One more Tuesday. A 1 year anniversary.
Then I will fold up all this very neatly. Smooth out the wrinkles. Put it away in a safe place.
Because He's not calling me to quit, or to abandonment.
He's calling me to rest for a little while.
He's calling me to lay it down.
To reinforce my identity and abide in Him. To be congruent in the way I love Him, to be consistent in the way I pursue Him. To root and establish myself in Him (A concrete foundation). To fill up with the living water He's offering. To learn the unforced rhythms of grace. He's cultivating a gentle, gracious, Christ-like spirit in me. Writing a story of continuity on the tablet of my heart.
A story of love and risk.
So I will spend this next season doing just that. Whatever it looks like. Studying the Word. Reading books. Weeding gardens. Running races. Building community and accountability.
Time to drop into a lower gear. No more hyper-activity. No more over-scheduling. No more bitter exhaustion.
Who knows what might happen? With my hands free. With my hours less accounted for. With my mind more open. I anticipate beauty and some restlessness. I am allowing God room to move (because, in His sovereignty, He does not force Himself on us). I am turning down the volume so I can hear Him speak; I am clearing out space. Space and room to breathe. Maybe we'll do a little dancing. Maybe, at the end, He will lead me right back to the place I left my heart. Maybe He'll give me something brand new.
Here I am. Pressing in.
Something beautiful is about to happen.
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