My heart is a raging sea right now. I hear you say breathe.
But I don’t want to breathe. I want to run, I want to jump, I want to KNOW. I want to know what is going on. I want to plan, I want to figure out. I want to scream, I want to cry, I want to be obnoxious.
Wait, little one, wait, you say.
But I don’t want to wait. I want to climb the tallest mountain NOW. I want to rip off all of the band aids now. I want to figure everything out. I want to solve the most complex math problem. I want to know everything. Right. Now.
Just be, beloved, just be, you whisper when I finally have to take a breath.
But what if I don’t figure things out in time? What if everything just flies right by, what if I don’t think of the right words in time? What if I just wait and wait and wait and nothing happens?
Trust me. You reach out your hands.
But if I grab your hands, then I won’t be able to grab anything else.
Simplicity. It makes me uncomfortable.
I have a paper due Saturday that has to be done by Friday in the midst of catching up on reading for another class. I have two quizzes week and so many problem sets due. I need to do research and planning for my marketing job. And then there’s just the every day stuff of meetings and loving people and relationships and all that insanity.
My world is so loud that the silence of simplicity is scary. I need to be so aware of every moment from here on out while dissecting the past. My mind needs to be totally consumed with what is coming next, with preparing for the future. I can’t just sit here and wait for it, I need to go out and get it.
Simplicity. Taking things as they are, as they come. Not reading into. Not taking more than is actually mine. Living in each minute. Being. Fully entering into each moment, because now is where Jesus is. Experiencing His full heart in this moment requires me to be in this moment. Not the next one.
So this Advent, I’m giving up planning, plotting, and orchestrating. I am done. I’m done stressing about what is to come.
Simplicity. There is wonder in simplicity. The simplicity of a young, scared teenager who was pregnant and unmarried. The simplicity of a skeptical man who had trust issues. The simplicity of a bunch of little lost boy shepherds. The simplicity of a stable. The simplicity of a baby.
God took all of that simplicity and lit it up with miracles.
So, Jesus, take me to a place of simplicity. Let me simply be. I give you my plans and my hopes and dreams and fears. Let me dive into this moment…give me trust in the journey, in the process. Let me see the glory in the mundane. Give me a pure heart that hopefully waits upon you while being fully invested in seeing you work in this moment.
Teach me how to breathe. Teach me how to just allow you to work without giving my input and preferences all of the time. Teach me how to listen. Teach me how to trust, how to be okay with wherever you’re leading. Whatever you do, I know it’s because you’re in love with me. You see everything that I do. You know. You know, so I don’t need to.
Reveal whatever you want to reveal, Jesus. I’m okay just following you. I don’t need to really see, because I know that you do. Give me your heart, I just want your desires. Smash the idol I have made of busyness, of noise. I am going to hold your hands. I am holding your hands. I trust that you will lead me to whatever is next. I trust that being in love with you, I waste no time. I trust that I won’t miss anything. I trust that I can keep my eyes fixed on you completely and totally and I will. not. fall. Nothing that is supposed to be mine will pass me by.
Jesus, let’s just dance.