Two weeks. Two weeks. I have two weeks of normal living. I can live as I have for much of my life—working and learning under my parents’ watchful eye. And then I will change. My life will change. My schedule will change. After these next fourteen days, things will simply not remain the same.
I thought I wouldn’t be afraid. I thought I had let go of the fears and the worries and the anxieties. But it’s different when I have only two weeks until change occurs instead of all summer. It’s way different! Now I have this restlessness in the deepest parts of me and no matter how many times I stretch and no matter how deeply I try to breathe, these feelings never go away—because they aren’t contained in my physical being alone. They permeate all of me. I don’t feel settled and I don’t feel sure. I just feel afraid, standing here at the very edge of all things normal and comfortable and known.
There is only one thing, one thing that’s really holding me together—the only thing which can really ever hold me together. And his name is Jesus. I tell my soul over and over that he’s got me. He’s never going to leave me. He’s going to be right where I am. And he’s moving across the edge of comfort beside me. I know that he will never fail.
I am trying so hard to rest in the truth of these words I’ve known for… forever. I am trying to tell myself he’s all I need. Mentally, I know he is. However, the throne of my emotions is not so confident. To believe so deeply that his words are true in this part of me is huge.
And I wonder how it can be. How can I not hold onto anxiety? How can I lay so much at his feet and leave it there? Because that is the key. So many times I have literally taken my teenage problems and idols and junk to the altar—only to take them back up the next day. How do I place the things laying so heavy on my heart upon the altar of God forever?
And in searching I realize the answer is so close—so close I hadn’t seen it. I realize prayer is really the only answer. Prayer is really the only way by which I can lay all these things down moment by moment, day after day. Prayer is really the only option I have. Because that edge? It drops real quick and I know once I come to the very end, I’ll plunge right down. I am not able—I am not strong enough, big enough or whole enough—to catch myself. I can’t do it. And that’s the bigness of living outside comfortable. It is bigger than myself and I have to step outside of my abilities to survive and thrive in it. I have to lift my eyes. And when I lift my eyes—oh when I lift my eyes—I see a God who is much bigger than the edge before my feet. He is big enough. He is strong enough. He is whole enough. He is all I need. I remember that.
And I believe all these things I’ve heard for forever. I believe these words I’ve been taught since I was born that rainy November Tuesday. I believe them because I need them and when I need them, I find that they are true—just like the God who declared them. He is all I need; my fears are lost in the bigness of him—of him who will assuredly save me and catch me and cry with me everyday after I walk off the edge.
So walk forward in confidence, oh my soul. Walk forward. Not cowaring. Not afraid. Not alone. Walk forward into the things to which he has called you, because he is faithful and he is big enough even as you are not. And he’s going to prove it to you, oh little soul, each day. He will never fail, so hold on to the vine—and don’t let go.
But now thus says the Lord, he who created you, O Jacob, he who formed you, O Israel: “Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name, you are mine. When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you; when you walk through fire you shall not be burned, and the flame shall not consume you.
Isaiah 43:1-2 ESV