And then...

So my journey is tough.

I wrote the psalm below early today, and then I embarked on a grand journey outside at the park. Nobody was around, the sun shone brilliantly on my white skin, and the storm clouds raced in in the distance.

I am battling. The shofar blew.

My faith is dwindling. Catch it, Jesus. Catch me.

An incredibly important thing that I learned in my talk/prayertime/cry to God in the park was...

My lack of faith resides in the fact that, slowly, my thirst for God has been drying up. My hunger for His Word: fading. It didn't happen all at once, but slowly. So slowly that I have been walking around a lame, starving woman for long enough that I didn't even realize it until my life began to hold no joy. Because my thirst and hunger were dying, I didn't even FEEL like I needed Him. Instead, anger and bitterness, jealousy and rage, began to take the places of sweetness, joy, and patience in my heart.

I don't like that person I have been slowly becoming.

So the shofar blew. The war of decision waged in my mind. Would I choose to remain obedient, or act out in my starvation by filling it with what my flesh wants in my own timing? Would I choose to confess Jesus as Lord of my life? As Lord?

Would the delude of doubt flooding through my thoughts and infecting my words break forth and dominate me? Would I look back and be turned into a pillar of salt? A pillar of nothing but dust, with no depth or shape or meaning?

I cried out. Instead of continuing to hold back the emotions, the pain, the frustration, I let them free in speaking with God. I was real with Him. Aren't we supposed to be?

And when I was finished, all of my strength was gone. Nothing left. Just a lone woman, sitting on a blanket in an empty park, with my knees pulled up and arms wrapped around them, hair blowing in the wind--vulnerable, weak, empty. But so desperately hoping. WANTING Him to ride in and deliver me. O God, SAVE ME.

So I surrendered my life. I confessed it again. In faith--believing without seeing. I have several Scripture verses memorized, so I spoke some of them aloud, to the wind, to God who inclines His ear to me, believing that if He said it, He will do it: "Draw near to me, and I will draw near to you." So I made every effort to draw near to Him, coming just as I am, and believed he would likewise fulfill His end of that Scripture.

I did not have, what I like to call, a "see-the-light" moment where I was overcome by the presence of God and KNEW He was there. Instead, I asked for Him to begin to show me about Himself. About his peace, about his grace, about his love. That He is loving. And that I am His beloved. As my boyfriend loves me...well...God loves me more. As my parents love me, God loves me more.

And thus, here I sit writing you the story of my day. The journey of my day. I'm exhausted. Things aren't perfect now, but in confessing out loud that: "I WILL be faithful to God, in whom resides my hope for salvation through His risen Son Jesus Christ," I am better. I must not allow my hunger and thirst for Him to dry up. Because if it does, then that's all that will be left: a dry, barren wasteland. But I, Ashley, am not created to be a dry, barren wasteland. I'm created to be filled to the overflowing with life. To radiate the Son. To radiate warmth, hope, joy, and love--life that is not just around me, but INSIDE me.