The Beginning

It's such a special thing when a child is born knowing that they are going to be a missionary, born knowing that they are called to Africa, or China, or some far-away country that the rest of us couldn't find on a map if our lives depended on it. It's almost as if God has reached down from His throne and created someone special, set apart from the rest, for a specific job that He needs accomplished. This is the child that grows up with a purpose, who knows who they are and why they were put on this Earth, no one understands where their passion or zeal comes from, and everyone is in a little bit of awe of them... This is nothing like me.

"Awkward" pretty much sums up my childhood; for the life of me I could not figure out who I was or what I was supposed to do with myself. I eventually latched on to the idea that I needed to go to college--because that's where everyone goes to figure out what they're supposed to do with their life. I began dreaming big dreams of wealth and fame; though I had been raised in the church I didn't pray much anymore, I was convinced that the only one that I could rely on was Myself.
But even as I charged towards getting ready to go to college, I couldn't find any peace. I was relying on myself, and that was tearing me apart. It took me awhile to catch on, but I was beginning to understand that no matter how many jobs I worked, or how much money I made, or how much education I strived after--none of it made me happy...
Now, we all hear about how if you look for God, you will find Him. But I wasn't looking for God, not anymore. I ran from God because He wanted something from me. In fact, I fought tooth-and-nail to push down the still, soft, persistent Voice inside of me. But no matter how hard I tried, I could not quiet God's voice...
"Give Me your dreams." He would whisper, "Give Me everything."
But I was scared! "No God! I have survived by holding onto these dreams, they've become who I am! How can I give them to You? Then what will I have? Who would I be?"
"You will be a missionary."
No, no, no. Anything but that.

During these years, I learned that you can run from God, but you can't hide. I was in a department store parking lot near the center of my little hometown when I fell apart. I can't even describe to you with words that moment when I finally gave up, crumbled inside, realized that the world could not satisfy me, that I was not strong enough to live by my own strength, when I realized that I either needed to end my life or give it to God, because those were the only two things that I had not yet tried. I wonder if anyone heard me as I broke down in gut-wrenching sobs; I know that I scared off a few birds as I screamed out toward Heaven: "Fine God! Fine! I'm sick of fighting against You! I've tried everything to find peace, and I can't, I can't... The only thing that I have not tried is to do what You've been asking all along! So here... take my life."
Immediately, peace just... descended onto me. It blanketed me, covered me, filled me. I had never in my life felt like I did at that moment. All doubts that I had about God and about His relevance in my life disappeared, because while I still could not see God, I felt Him. And no one, not the world, not my peers, not my own skepticism, or even the devil himself could tell me that God did not answer my prayer.
I kind of see my life as this adventure. I cannot see where I am going--who knows what I will do or where I will go! All I can see is where I have been, and the day that I just described is what I consider The Beginning. Sunday, June 22, 2008 is where it all began.