"The sweetest thing in all my life has been the longing —
to reach the Mountain, to find the place where all the beauty came from —
my country, the place where I ought to have been born. Do you think it all meant nothing,
all the longing? The longing for home? For indeed it now feels not like going, but like going back."

~C.S. Lewis

Thursday, April 25, 2013

When a glass wall cracks

It began with a dream.

 I’d asked the Lord for a dream last year—to please speak to me about horses in a dream. I couldn’t go on the way I had been; the frustration was too great. Every time I couldn’t reach the glory I felt was possible with horses, it was a judgment on my soul.

And so I broke. In tears on my bed, late at night, I cried to the Lord to give me a dream, to tell me what I had to do, to please reveal to me anything… everything. For a conservative evangelical, this seemed to be nearing heresy, but I didn’t care.

This afternoon, I sat in the balcony of the Roseville Library Dunn Bros., 1:35 p.m. I come here because there are plants and green and growing things. There is life.

Sitting up against the railing, I scrolled through old Word documents and diaries looking for my description of the dream the Lord had flooded me with that night. Clicking through pages, I reach March 8, 2012. One year ago. And I skim, stop, go back, and read:
Sometimes life just isn’t what you think it is… There is nothing obvious you can change, you are going all right, you are doing all right, you think.
Everyone else thinks.
And you are. You are. But you’re not. You want so much more and you can’t get there, you’re running so hard you don’t even see the glass wall you keep hitting. It’s like you hear someone calling your name, over and over, and you hear it, and you keep saying, “yes, yes, yes, I hear” and yet the voice never tells you to do anything, it just keeps calling and calling and calling...
But what do you do? What do you do. Nothing. Keep pressing on, hearing the voice calling you, and knowing it will never go away. Never. It will just keep resonating in the wind when you walk outside and whispering in your sheets as you slip into bed and shouting in your mind when all else is quiet.
It will never leave you.
The coffee grinder below me switched on; the little girl playing cards with her father squealed as she won the game. And I looked at the words on the screen, and they looked wide-eyed at me.

It was a year ago, but the Lord has answered. It is two days ago, March 6, 2013, 5:20 p.m., 29 degrees. The Spirit had driven me outside. I ran on the ice on the sidewalk until I couldn’t run anymore, and then I walked through the snow on the sidewalk until my face was cold, and then I stood on the pavement in the road until I had run out of words to pray.

 Silent I stood, looking at the scabby oak trees and the snow filled up with dirty slush from cars and the houses that took care of people I didn’t know. And I knew, just a bit, what I had been searching for so desperately one year ago.

My life wouldn’t go back—today’s library conversation with a dear friend, this morning’s Facebook conversation, yesterday’s journal entries, this afternoon with my horse—are all the proof I needed of that. Miracles and tongues, dreams and demons, living out passion before practicality—the unseen world, adventure, battle, death—words of knowledge, words from God—persecution and martyrdom—Spirit-based horse training—and my life takes a step toward unrecognizable. The Lord is faithful to destroy the boxes I put Him in. It is March 6, 2013, and inside as I thaw from my run, I write another prayer:
Lord, blow up my life…
I never want to go back to normal.
Blow up my life.
Every day, let miracles happen. Let me constantly have e-mails and phone calls and friends that come in and change the entire course of my life. I want to feel deeply, know deeply. I want to laugh so hard I can’t speak and I want to stay up all night crying. I want to intercede deeply for people, I want to pray for them so hard they can feel it.
Lord, my desire for battle and adventure and glory, for blood and tears and sweat, for romance and love and passion, is so great if I can’t have it my soul is going to die; there is only one way I can live, and that is full out, the full person I was meant to be.
Lord, if you’ve put those desires in me, it means You loved them first. You loved Middle Earth and Narnia and all the great stories first, you love drama and intrigue, adventure and romance and battle and war and glory and passion and pain and love so much more than even I do. Lord, you love the stories more than I do. Make my life into the stories you love…
Destroy my life. Wreck it. Renew it. Write it again.
The words flowed on, paragraph after paragraph, prayer upon prayer. On spiritual gifts and spiritual sight, on tongues and miracles and healings, on dreams and visions, love and pain, on the Enemy and demons and angels, on pain and persecution and arrows of fire. On destroying the idols I make of Safe and Certain and Sure, on releasing my fear of sin and being wrong and of walking astray. A life beyond the box I'd lived in began to open and reveal to me the life I'd been searching for for so long.

And the glass wall I couldn’t escape a year ago began to crack, and the incessant calling voice had finally grown silent.