My Almost Rebellion: Part Three

My flight was delayed. The inbound plane was coming from Chicago. I hate Chicago. Nothing gets out on time. It’s like that place eats planes or something. So, I was stuck in Wichita. It’s one of those tiny airports where everything shuts down at like, six. So no magazines to purchase, no munchies to buy. Just me, my thoughts, and I. I think I talked to my Mom again … yeah, we chat quite a bit. I love my Mom.

You know when someone’s standing near you and you kinda get that sense that they would talk to you if you let them? So you avoid eye contact, and make sure your body language is not open. And you know when sometimes those people choose to ignore all that and talk to you anyway?

Well. I was standing, as my muscles were a little tired from all the sitting I’d done. A shorter woman, probably in her late 50s or early 60s, with frizzy blonde, shoulder length hair, blue capris—the kind of denim blue that shouldn’t be allowed anymore—a button down, oversized pale yellow shirt, and, you guessed it, a hip pack leaned toward me. She motioned toward the big window we were near and said, “Amazing sunset isn’t it?” I turned, and saw the most beautiful Kansas sunset I’ve ever seen. (Truth be told, it was the first Kansas one I’ve ever seen, but honestly, it rivaled the Colorado sunsets at that moment.)

“Isn’t that just the silver lining on this situation?” she asked. I knew she meant the delay of the plane, but …. I could not tear my eyes away from that sunset. I watched and watched and watched … and ducked my head because I was crying. I couldn’t help it. It was like God was saying here look—there’s still beauty in this world. I know you are hurting and broken, but life is still beautiful and I Am still here. I watched that sun until is disappeared behind the horizon. And I’m pretty sure when I turned, with tears still glistening in my eyes, I saw that funny little woman watching me and smiling to herself. I think she knew I needed that.

On the plane, near the end when I was no longer allowed to play obsessive, back to back games of Solitaire on my iPod, I rested my head against the stored tray table in front of me, and cried some more. Simply because it felt good to cry. I just felt so sad. And it felt so good to allow the sadness, still keeping out the anger and bitterness and jealousy. I was just sad.

I pulled it together and got off the plane, helped calm a lady and direct her to her connection, followed her there just to be sure, smiled at her reassuringly, as if her problem was the biggest in the world, and went to find my car. And drive to Colorado Springs, where Erik awaited me in a castle, in the highest room atop the highest tower.

I’m not joking—he really was in a castle, and really was waiting for me.

And so I went. I’d love to tell you I spoke to God the whole way and allowed Him to help me heal. But that wouldn’t have helped me stay awake, so I definitely danced my way to the Springs to the good ole music of America’s very own Britney Spears. Hey—don’t judge me. I got there safely.

The next morning, I went to the beginning of Erik’s conference session. (worship conference, morning session = worship songs). I sat at a table and just watched the words. I could not sing; I know myself too well. I couldn’t do it. But I did soak it in. I heard the words, and I allowed the tears to flow. The song that got to me the most that morning, just this morning actually when I think about it, was:

Matt Redman - You Never Let Go
From the album Passion 06: Everything Glorious

Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death
Your perfect love is casting out fear
And even when I’m caught in the middle of the storms of this life
I won’t turn back
I know You are near

And I will fear no evil
For my God is with me
And if my God is with me
Whom then shall I fear?
Whom then shall I fear?

Chorus:
Oh no, You never let go
Through the calm and through the storm
Oh no, You never let go
In every high and every low
Oh no, You never let go
Lord, You never let go of me

And that’s when I realized. I really can’t run away from God. He’s got me, and He’s not going to let go. Just like my Mom is always telling me, God is big enough to handle my little emotional moments. He’s big enough to handle my questions, my doubts, and my yelling. He created me with these emotions, these hormones, and He knows what it feels like when they’re swirling inside of me, making me an emotional monster. And He’s big enough to handle said Monster. He’s not going to let me go.

What’s so funny about all of this, is I knew that. I know that. I’ve always known that. And yet, from August 26^th-August 29^th, I really really thought that I’d almost ... I don’t know what. But “almost”. I almost quit. I almost lost it. I almost attempted to run away from God. And then I realized something—it’s not that I can’t, but I don’t want to. Why would I?