Words and Ways

Sometimes God speaks to us in the most interesting ways. I’ve been trying to decide for a while how to tell you the next piece about the butterflies, but I didn’t really know how until this morning.
Yesterday was a really hard day. There are times in my journey when I know that God is breaking down all the compartments I’ve so neatly placed everything in and bringing them all together into oneness--making me whole. I know it is good and necessary, but it is so painful. He’s bringing me front and center into believing what I believe and facing the consequences of such an act. The process of standing in faith leads us back into all our doubts. I used to be afraid that was bad.  People used to tell me that if I wasn't SURE it was God than it wasn't--that God could make Himself known and He knew how to communicate in a way you could understand it--because (I can feel the weight of their conviction), "God is not a God of confusion."  But Ted once told me that doubt is an important part of faith. Asking questions, testing, and seeking understanding—it is part of the process of being able to truly discern, trust and believe.
I woke up this morning from some dreams that brought my sadness to the surface. My friends from different times in my life kept coming into my path. They had all found themselves, their roles, their gifts, their place in this world. One was training horses and the other was playing sports. Then I was with my parents and they were going out on a boat—I was supposed to go with them but I missed it. There was a kayak there, and I felt confused—was the kayak for me? I woke feeling alone.
I picked up my Bible—I’m reading through Mark--and Jesus is in the full swing of ministry. There’s a part of me that aches to be entrenched in all that. I think about the butterflies and how poignantly God has shown me this burden. Yet, I’m concerned that it won’t go any farther than a shelf in the back of my heart. I’ve felt for a while that I needed to wait. That God would say when. Now I’m beginning to question that. Maybe He’s waiting for me. I don’t know. Again, I feel alone.
I started to think about how it’s Sunday morning, and I want to go to church. I know I can go to church, and at times we do. But it’s not the same as truly being a part of a church family. I want to be fed with the Word and worship God with music and I want my kids to absorb the Scriptures and learn the old hymns. I want to take part in Communion and I want my kids to be baptized. I want us to learn how our gifts can be used in the context of the Body. I want my family to feel like they are a part of a larger family of believers and to care and be cared for. I miss the Church--terribly at times.
I laid my head on Matt’s shoulder and he opened his eyes half-way.
“I’m sad,” I said.
“I’m sorry,” he replied, and after a while he asked, “Why are you sad?”
“Because I want to go to church,” and I explained all the reasons why.

“But,” I said, “All the reasons I felt I had to leave are still true.”

“I don’t know what God wants me to do,” I said finally.

We sat in a silence for a while, then Matt said quietly with assurance, “I think you are going to know this year.”

As he spoke, I felt like my spirit absorbed his words as if I had eaten them and felt full—like manna. I knew that Matt had given me a “word.” I just didn’t know if he knew he had given me a “word.”

So I asked him, “Why do you think that?”

“I don’t know, I just do,” he said. (That's what happens when God gives you a sense of "knowing."  You know that you know something, you just don't know why you know--or how you could know, aside from God.)

Hope filled the corners of my spirit. I began to wonder what it was all about and my mind filled up with the possibilities. A sense of peace motioned for the pain of the moments before to take its leave. Then I thought about how cool it was that God had just spoken to me through Matt. He communicates to us in the most interesting ways.

That was how it was with the butterflies…