I always have this incredible inner fear that I will make testimonies about me. Let me be clear before I keep going: this is NOT about me. It's all about Jesus. And boy do I ever love Him for that.
To put it bluntly, I just spent two and half months climbing the biggest, most treacherous mountain I have ever faced. No, not a real one. I didn't lace up hiking boots and strap on a backpack. I did, however, spend two and a half months slipping and falling. Stumbling, tripping. I spent two and a half months faced with more temptations and darkness then I ever thought possible. I got hit with a whole lot of pain, anger, frustration and stress. I was stuck in what felt like a big, black hole. Some days I thought I wouldn't make it. I'm not exaggerating. There were days where I cried far too much and kept telling Jesus that I couldn't do this anymore. I was tossed into a job where I worked 70 hours a week and had zero fellowship in a town that was 40 minutes from my own and too many kilometers from those I loved. I was taken out of my life, my church routine and the Christian circle I had spent all summer working in. It felt like I was walking blind through a tunnel that would never end. On top of it, I was exhausted. Physically speaking, I burnt out about two months and one week into this climb. Spiritually and emotionally, I was exhausted within the first week. It made for a difficult, relentless struggle. A difficult, relentless, God-ordained struggle.
That's right. I believe my Jesus lined it all up. Planned it all out. Knew it all ahead of time. I believe it was of His will that I be tested and tried and I believe it was His way that I face what I faced. I believe He knew it all. He knew I would struggle. He knew I would turn away from Him at times, like a stubborn teenage daughter that refuses to believe that her Father really does know what is best. He knew I would make mistakes. He knew I would be broken in a way that made me ache like never before. He knew my heart would be in pain. And, ultimately, He knew it would shape me to look more like Him. I didn't think so at the time, but I see it now. I am not the same girl I was two and a half months ago. My thoughts and attitudes are different. My ways are different.
Friday at 4pm I clocked out from my last shift. I could not stop crying because of my thankfulness. Stepping out of my job was like having a hundred pound weight lifted off my shoulders. On the way home I was talking to Jesus out loud. If you were beside me, you would have not understood any of the blubbering words that I got out between my tears, but He did. I was thankful that I had finally reached the peak of this mountain. I could stand now. I didn't have to slip and fall and hurt so much. I could stand and breathe and open up my arms because I wasn't trying desperately to keep surviving. I was in the middle of thanking and praising Him for this mountaintop when I realized something:
Jesus is all about the valleys. He's all about the climb.
Jesus is so present in our pain. He's so present in our struggle. He's using them to make us look like Him, you know. He's using them to bring us closer to His heart. Standing on this mountaintop, I can assure you that I know a lot more about Him now than I did two and a half months ago. And I am realizing that all this stuff, even the hard stuff- especially the hard stuff- is for my good and His glory. And something happens when I realize that. I want to go back. I ask to go closer to His heart still. Even if it means valleys. Even if it means struggles. Even if it means painful growth. I want to get closer to Him. Don't get me wrong- after so long I am beyond thankful to stand here and worship with open arms. But I see Jesus so much in the valleys. I see Him so much in the climb.
And I guess I just want to encourage you. Because sometimes we face these things and think we're alone. We're not. We're all struggling and fighting. We're all growing. We're God's children, and the process of sanctification is not always a painless one. In fact, I don't think it is ever a painless one. But be thankful, beloved. Be thankful. He is going to use this to shape and mold you and grow you. He is going to use this to make you look like Him. There's no better prize.
He is faithful. He will carry you. It may seem never ending and too painful, but He's gonna carry you to the end. He's gonna meet you. He's gonna provide.
One day, you'll stand at the mountaintop. And even if you don't think so now, I promise- you'll be grateful for the climb.
To put it bluntly, I just spent two and half months climbing the biggest, most treacherous mountain I have ever faced. No, not a real one. I didn't lace up hiking boots and strap on a backpack. I did, however, spend two and a half months slipping and falling. Stumbling, tripping. I spent two and a half months faced with more temptations and darkness then I ever thought possible. I got hit with a whole lot of pain, anger, frustration and stress. I was stuck in what felt like a big, black hole. Some days I thought I wouldn't make it. I'm not exaggerating. There were days where I cried far too much and kept telling Jesus that I couldn't do this anymore. I was tossed into a job where I worked 70 hours a week and had zero fellowship in a town that was 40 minutes from my own and too many kilometers from those I loved. I was taken out of my life, my church routine and the Christian circle I had spent all summer working in. It felt like I was walking blind through a tunnel that would never end. On top of it, I was exhausted. Physically speaking, I burnt out about two months and one week into this climb. Spiritually and emotionally, I was exhausted within the first week. It made for a difficult, relentless struggle. A difficult, relentless, God-ordained struggle.
That's right. I believe my Jesus lined it all up. Planned it all out. Knew it all ahead of time. I believe it was of His will that I be tested and tried and I believe it was His way that I face what I faced. I believe He knew it all. He knew I would struggle. He knew I would turn away from Him at times, like a stubborn teenage daughter that refuses to believe that her Father really does know what is best. He knew I would make mistakes. He knew I would be broken in a way that made me ache like never before. He knew my heart would be in pain. And, ultimately, He knew it would shape me to look more like Him. I didn't think so at the time, but I see it now. I am not the same girl I was two and a half months ago. My thoughts and attitudes are different. My ways are different.
Friday at 4pm I clocked out from my last shift. I could not stop crying because of my thankfulness. Stepping out of my job was like having a hundred pound weight lifted off my shoulders. On the way home I was talking to Jesus out loud. If you were beside me, you would have not understood any of the blubbering words that I got out between my tears, but He did. I was thankful that I had finally reached the peak of this mountain. I could stand now. I didn't have to slip and fall and hurt so much. I could stand and breathe and open up my arms because I wasn't trying desperately to keep surviving. I was in the middle of thanking and praising Him for this mountaintop when I realized something:
Jesus is all about the valleys. He's all about the climb.
Jesus is so present in our pain. He's so present in our struggle. He's using them to make us look like Him, you know. He's using them to bring us closer to His heart. Standing on this mountaintop, I can assure you that I know a lot more about Him now than I did two and a half months ago. And I am realizing that all this stuff, even the hard stuff- especially the hard stuff- is for my good and His glory. And something happens when I realize that. I want to go back. I ask to go closer to His heart still. Even if it means valleys. Even if it means struggles. Even if it means painful growth. I want to get closer to Him. Don't get me wrong- after so long I am beyond thankful to stand here and worship with open arms. But I see Jesus so much in the valleys. I see Him so much in the climb.
And I guess I just want to encourage you. Because sometimes we face these things and think we're alone. We're not. We're all struggling and fighting. We're all growing. We're God's children, and the process of sanctification is not always a painless one. In fact, I don't think it is ever a painless one. But be thankful, beloved. Be thankful. He is going to use this to shape and mold you and grow you. He is going to use this to make you look like Him. There's no better prize.
He is faithful. He will carry you. It may seem never ending and too painful, but He's gonna carry you to the end. He's gonna meet you. He's gonna provide.
One day, you'll stand at the mountaintop. And even if you don't think so now, I promise- you'll be grateful for the climb.