This morning I spent way too much time on Instagram. It's all too easy to get sucked into this realm where everyone chooses what they want you to see, and before you know it, you start to believe that everyone is living this perfectly dressed, breakfast in bed life; filled with handsome lovers and airstreams and endless craft supplies. It's especially easy to get sucked into this world when you don’t want to get up in the morning.
Within seconds I start to put pressure on myself, to buy nicer clothes, to lose weight, and somehow meet someone who might fall in love with me so I wouldn’t have to be so damn lonely. And the kicker-I begin to put pressure on myself to find adventure. I need it, I crave it. I used to have a pretty out of the box life, but recent circumstances have sent me home to my least favorite state in the world, and I honestly feel afraid that I’ll somehow get too comfortable, or maybe even too poor to ever leave. I fear that I’ll die working a 9-5, never able to do the wild things I crave deep inside my bones. I honestly lie in bed at night, crying that I’ll be stuck here forever.
I have a lot of irrational fears. They parade themselves through my mind; taking turns leading the lineup. A myriad of belly dancers, hairy men, and contortionists; terrifying, but you find yourself unable to look away. Sometimes the bearded lady carries a sign that says, “RACHEL WILL NEVER FIND ADVENTURE AGAIN. SHE LOST HER CHANCE. SHE IS DESTINED FOR AN AVERAGE LIFE”. I believe her. Because now that I’m living at home with my parents, working an average job and trying to pay all my bills, it's so easy to believe that my dreams are foolish, and who am I kidding? There are more talented people doing the things that I wish I could do.
But sometimes, just sometimes,
And little hints of grace show up, like fireflies in the night,
carrying messages that remind me:
I am designed for greatness.
Jesus is literally obsessed with me. He thinks so many thoughts about me that it adds up to more than all the sand on the Florida beaches.
When I create, the Trinity is dancing through my fingers.
Papa put these desires in my heart, and he’s not playing games with me.
What I say matters.
I don’t go unnoticed.
This winter season is a season where all the leaves and flowers go missing, so I can clearly see through the trees. I can see far ahead. I need to open my eyes to see how beautiful things are here.
Sometimes, these fireflies of grace remind me of words people have spoken to me. Words that affirm my identity as a child, an heir, chosen, fully loved, and delighted in. Words that remind me to push through the parade of fears and into the wild lands of fireflies and wildflowers, calling me to go deeper and higher into the wilderness of the Father's heart towards me.
I pray that as I’m here I would see the adventure in my day to day, that I would speak words from my Father, that I would believe truth and have it built deeply in me, instead of escaping my current situation through things like instagram. I pray that I'd be able to get out of bed with a child-like expectancy. Romans 8:15 in the message version says,
God’s Spirit beckons. There are things to do and places to go! This resurrection life you received from God is not a timid, grave-tending life. It’s adventurously expectant, greeting God with a childlike “What’s next, Papa?” God’s Spirit touches our spirits and confirms who we really are. We know who he is, and we know who we are: Father and children.
I have reason to believe that in a few days or months or (hopefully not) years, I'll look back and see that this season was possibly the most precious of them all, that my tree rings are multiplying despite the trauma the wood shows. I am a part of a forest, surrounded by trees cheering for me, willing my limbs to grow longer, healing me by placing their palms on my bark, causing my tree rings to multiply.