Drowning Myself

I'm listening to "It Is Well" by Bethel Music on repeat.

It's two am and I'm not leaving for camp today.

I have no idea where I'll be a year from now, if I'll be in my program or not. If I'll have a practicum spot or not. If I'll be heading into my senior year or taking a year off.

Three weeks from today I'll be back in Iowa City, sleeping in a dorm room.

A year ago I hadn't even walked across the stage and now I'm a year into college.

There is so much about the world that I don't know. This year I learned a lot, but one thing about myself sticks out above all else.

I am afraid.

Afraid of what? Of everything. That sounds like an exaggeration, but it seems to be true. I am afraid of failing, but I'm afraid to succeed because that will raise the bar. I'm afraid of stepping out of my comfort zone, but I'm afraid to stay in it because I might miss out. I'm afraid of my future because it is so unsure. I'm afraid of people because they can hurt me so easily. I'm afraid of being alone, being left, having to do it all on my own. I'm afraid to make choices because I could make the wrong one.

Fear drives me. It drives me to run, to cry, to build walls and isolate myself. It drives me to shrink back, to step down. It drives me to put up sinful defenses. To give up. To turn away.

Right here at two in the morning I cannot imagine anything beyond this. This paralyzing, overwhelming, constant fear. Because I am so very fearful and because it is in response to nearly everything in life....how can I overcome that?

I most often believe that my fears are greater and more powerful than my God.

There's a line in a Casting Crown's song that says "I'm trying so hard to stop trying so hard."

This is often the heart beat of my prayers. I am exhausting myself trying to swim through my sea of fears. I'm desperately trying to reach the shore. I see God telling me not to be afraid and my heart takes that and believes that He cannot use me until I am fearless. I am trying so very hard to rid myself of the excessive fear, to force myself into the storm.

And I'm really tired. I'm tired of crying about this summer, I'm tired of fearing every possible moment in it, I'm tired of fearing that I made the wrong choice. I'm tired of trying to tear down all the walls I have built on my own. I'm tired of thinking about my future and trying to map out every single possible way it could go. I'm tired of cutting people off simply because they are people with the ability to possibly hurt me.

I'm tired of swimming.

I think that maybe it's time to let myself drown.

Because the thing is, my God is not standing on the shore. He is not waiting for me to pull it together. If He was this sort of God His son would not have shed innocent blood for me before I even existed.

No my maker is standing beside me, guiding me, upholding me, loving me.

To let myself drown would not result in drowning at all, but in finding myself caught up fully in my Father's arms.

Yet to stop swimming to let go is against all the pride I have. It's unnatural for me, and I want so desperately to have a checklist for how to go about it all.

"Through it all, my eyes are on you." 

This is what this song keeps saying to me. I think maybe it's that simple. I like to overcomplicate, I like to have a step by step plan.

But Jesus always just said "Come."

2nd Chronicles 20 wrecks my heart every time I read it. Jehoshaphat had an army that he could not overcome. He was afraid. He was weak. He did not know what to do or how to fight.

So he sought the Lord. He prayed this incredible prayer of praise and promise and pleading. He rejoiced fully in the Lord, he called his community together to do the same. He followed the Lord's directions and praised His goodness when he had victory. I have read this passage a hundred times this semester and I cannot get enough.

To respond to fear this way is foreign to me. To go forth and stand firm is not something I could imagine myself doing. To reach out to community and ask them to plead alongside me seems terrifying in itself. He tells the Lord, "We do not know what to do, but our eyes are on you."

To keep my eyes upon the Lord.

This will save me from drowning. Yet, it will allow me to give up trying to swim. To forget about the water beneath me and follow the light instead. To reach out for His extended hand, letting go of my chains in the process. To allow Him to knock down walls, to run to Him instead of away. To bind myself to Him and His people.

Every day. I wake up every day and have to decide if I'm going to try and swim or let myself sink into His loving arms. Some days are harder, some days I think that if I just kick a little harder I can make it. I'm learning, though. Learning that He leads better. That I can do so much more in surrender.

Fear controls so much of my life....

but I am learning (slowly) that letting myself drown in those fears is the only way to move past them.

Yes...I do not know what to do.

But, Jesus, my eyes are on you.