Confessions of the Clingy

In a way I feel like I have been running to and fro.  From one thing to the next, always looking for the next race.  Seeking the next task to accomplish.  While I'm running all over the place I forget.  I forget the powerful truths that God has been so faithfully speaking to me.  The thing about God, though, is that He is always faithful.  Even when it means Him cycling the same truths to me over and over (and over) again.

Lately He's been reminding me how natural it is for us to cling.  Whether you like to admit it or not we are a clingy people.  Even when we don't want to be.  Even when we deny it—we are.  We cling.  The question is: what is it or who is it that we are clinging to?

I've been coaching elementary girls’ volleyball.  Volleyball is a hard sport for elementary girls—seeing as how the ball is bigger than most of their bodies.  I have a small girl that most of the time struggles to get her serve over the net.  This past week at our game she got almost all of her serves in.  She even won us five consecutive points off of her serve.  She was beaming—she was jumping all over the place with excitement.  When she was subbed out she flung herself into our other coach's arms clinging to her in excitement and celebration of what had just been accomplished.

There are days that I take my kids at school out early to recess and our time ends up overlapping with the second grade's time.  I have a student that I taught when she was in kindergarten and first grade.  Whenever I see her she flings herself into my arms and clings on closely.  She looks back and remembers that she was cared for in class—that we worked together through it all and that we both were stronger on the other side of our time together as "student" and "teacher".  She looks back and she still clings onto me out of feelings of love, comfort, and trust.

As a first grade teacher there are also multiple instances of kiddo's walking up to me with crocodile tears flowing down their faces.  Heavy drops of water running like a signal fire of the pain of life experiences, fear, and injury.  They cling.  They cling to me out of sorrow of life circumstances.  They cling out of fear of failure.  They cling out of pain from physical injury.  Regardless of why or how it is they are experiencing the pain they still cling.

I just feel God tugging at me and asking—where are you allowing yourself to cling?  When you are jumping up and down with excitement, celebrating your life, where are you clinging?  When you are remembering past memories and circumstances, who are you allowing yourself to cling to?  When it feels like life is beating you up a little bit and pain is aching in your heart who is it or where is it you are running to—clinging to?

David was able to say when he was walking in the wilderness in Psalm 63:

"My soul will be satisfied as with fat and rich food, and my mouth will praise you with joyful lips, when I remember you upon my bed, and meditate on you in the watches of the night; for you have been my help, and in the shadow of your wings I will sing for joy.  My soul clings to you; your right hand upholds me."

Praise you with joyful lips, remember you upon my bed, for you have been my help—my soul clings to you.  Joy, remembrance, and help from trouble.  I think our reaction to all three things should look a whole lot like us running and clinging to the Savior.  To the Creator.  To our Heavenly Father.  But does it?

Earlier in Psalm 63 David says:

"O God, you are my God; earnestly I seek you; my soul thirsts for you; my flesh faints for you, as in a dry and weary land where there is no water."

I just feel God asking me "Are you earnestly seeking me, Janie?  I know you thirst, but are you allowing yourself to desperately seek Me out—The Living and
Eternal Well.  Or are you clinging to other things—other people.  Looking to be quenched from an earthly, finite source?"

I don't believe I'm the only one He is asking.  So, where, where are we clinging, where are we seeking?

I'm humbled when I read in 2 Chronicles16:9,

"For the eyes of the Lord run to and fro throughout the whole earth, to give strong support to those whose heart is blameless toward him.  You have done foolishly in this, for from now on you will have wars."

While I just feel like I'm running to and fro to accomplish one task after another—while I forget Him, forget the truths He has taught me, He is sending His eyes to and fro seeking His children.  He is seeking me, and He wants to give strong support to those whose heart is blameless toward Him.  And it is humbling because what He found when His eyes landed on Asa was that he had done foolishly in this. 

The thing is I don't want to be hard to find—not that anyone really could be hard for Him to find—and I definitely don't want to take after Asa—I just want to cling to Him—cling to Jesus.  To earnestly seek Him as in a dry and weary land.  I simply want my legacy to always be that you can find me with Jesus.  Always.  In any circumstance.  While in seasons of joy, seasons of remembering, as well as seasons of sorrow. 

He is the God who kneels down close and invites.  Who reaches out His arms and has a special place for each child to nestle in close.  Clinging with all that they have.  He is personal, His eyes are searching for His beloved children. 

Where will He find you—find me?  Clinging to His Word and all that He says He is, or elsewhere?  I think most people would admit that they are thirsty.  The question is are we desperately searching and seeking The Well of Living Water—or are we settling for a finite, earthly source?

The truth is we are all clingers—as pathetic as we allow ourselves to think it sounds.  There is power in where/who we are allowing ourselves to cling to—really I think my odds are pretty good if I cling to the Victor.  

The Sun's Story

I find myself smack dab in the span of a few years of constantly going.  The Lord has called me to amazing things by asking me to teach during the school year and work at camp in the summer.  Every day I am in awe of the places that He has led me and the people He has crossed my paths with.  I have been given blessing after blessing. I've also felt more drained than I ever knew I could and like I've been at the end of my abilities.  The only reason I say any of this is to make it clear that I don't even have the words to express just how good God is—His provision over the past few years has been miraculous.

He is writing a story.  A story through me.  A story through you.  A story through His children—His church.  What part of the story do you find yourself in?  Is it a mountain?  Or maybe even a valley?

The past few weeks God has been reminding me of His amazing faithfulness.  One of the mornings the last week of camp I was reading Psalm 19, which has been one of my favorites and always challenges me.  It always reminds me how much better creation can sometimes be at declaring the glory of God—it always tends to "put me in my place"—until I forget and need to be reminded again.  This particular time reading it God really started to point out part of verse 4 and 5:

"Day to day pours out speech, and night to night reveals knowledge.  There is no speech, nor are there words, whose voice is not heard.  Their voice goes out through all the earth, and their words to the end of the world.  In them he has set a tent for the sun, which comes out like a bridegroom leaving his chamber, and, like a strong man, runs its course with joy." vs. 2-5

I started to think about the sun "running its course with joy".  One of the times the sun seems the most "joyful" to me is at sunrise—with that thought I went on with my day.  It wasn't until heading to life guard later, that one small incident set me to feel like I was at emotional rock bottom.  I was so drained and one incident was all it took—I felt completely at the end of my abilities.  To be honest I was extremely thankful I was wearing sunglasses to hide the tears that were quickly welling up.  All I could think about was how I was stuck on the dock for the next two hours, when I felt like I could barely hold it together.  But, God.  He is so sweet and He met me in that moment.

He reminded me of the sunrise and that the sun was running its course with joy.  He started to give me the revelation that I was looking at it all wrong.  I was thinking of the joy He could give me in my own human, finite, earthly perspective.  You see, I was thinking of the sunrise as something I was allotted once a day.  But He reminded me that His ways are so much higher than my own perspective.  The sun is literally always rising.  As I sit here typing this at 7:40 at night the sun is rising somewhere.  The sun is always running its course with joy and so can I.

In that moment He reminded me of the verse I was so used to quoting and hearing in Lamentations that says:

"The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness."

For whatever reason I always get caught up with the "new every morning" part.  In that moment God made it clear to me that they never come to an end—it's not a matter of getting to the end of the day and saying "Oh, I really need the morning to come for my daily allotment of mercies."

He was telling me, "No!  I'm so much greater than your perspective of morning.  Than your perspective of my mercies.  You receive mercies not because it's morning, but because I am merciful."

His reminders are literally written across the sky as the sun runs its course!  He is so faithful to provide mercy.  To provide joy.  Psalm 30 says:

"Sing praises to the Lord, O you his saints, and give thanks to his holy name.  For his anger is but for a moment, and his favor is for a lifetime.  Weeping may tarry for the night, but joy comes with the morning...You have turned for me my mourning into dancing; you have loosed my sackcloth and clothed me with gladness, that my glory may sing your praise and not be silent.  O Lord my God, I will give thanks to you forever!" Vs. 4-5, 11-12.

Again, He whispered to me, "It's not the morning that does it, it’s the Maker—I give joy.  Rest in me and find joy, my child."

He is good.  He is provider.  He is love.  He is the one that calls you.  He is the one to see you through the calling.  And even the calling after that.

This past week I was driving and though it wasn't raining, God gave me a glimpse of what I thought to be a rainbow in the distance.  I was listening to the song "Do It Again":

"I know the night won't last

Your Word will come to pass

My heart will sing Your praise again

Jesus, You're still enough

Keep me within Your love

My heart will sing Your praise again

Your promise still stands

Great is Your faithfulness, faithfulness

I'm still in Your hands

This is my confidence, You never failed me yet."

And in the moment the thought of His promises and His faithfulness hit me like an overwhelming flood.  He told us in Genesis:

"This is the sign of the covenant that I make between me and you and every living creature that is with you, for all future generations: I have set my bow in the cloud, and it shall be a sign of the covenant between me and the earth.  When I bring clouds over the earth and the bow is seen in the clouds, I will remember my covenant that is between me and you and every living creature of all flesh..."

He remembers.  He remembers His covenant, His promises.  He remembers and He is so faithful.

I look back at the past few years and I am in awe of the miraculous things that I have seen.  Children coming to Christ, chains broken, lives transformed, prayers answered, conflict resolved, the Body strengthened.  Amazing fruit has poured out through His callings and the outworking of His Spirit.  And even in the moment(s) that felt like rock bottom, He was so sweet and faithful to show up.  To show up in the sun running its course with joy.  To show up in a picture of a rainbow—the evidence of His promise.

I want to tell my story, not because of anything I have done—but to proclaim what He has done.  It is so incredibly clear to me that I could not have worked in the capacities I have at school or camp without Him providing every moment.

Know that whether you find yourself on a mountain or in a valley, He is writing a story.  A story that will proclaim just how mighty and faithful He is.  Disclaimer: He wins the battle.  Don't wait for the morning to feel the weight of His mercies and His joy.  Draw near.  Draw near to the Maker and He will always provide.