Anything

I’m reading a non-fiction book, “Anything” by Jennie Allen.  I usually inhale books.  I read “Gone with the Wind” in four days at age 12.  Sitting in a rocking chair in my bedroom, I devoured over 1,000 pages of what must have been 8 point font.  Couldn’t put it down.  But now I’m reading this book, and it’s literally taken me about three months to get through it.

The author and her husband prayed a prayer of “anything”.  Told God they were willing to do anything required in order to move into deeper relationship with God, to serve completely, without reservation, and to make a difference in the world for him.  The book includes phrases like “When you are truly about the things of God, there is always attack” and “Christ never intended those who walked with him to feel comfortable and safe.  This was meant to be a risk-it-all pursuit.”  Ah, no wonder it’s taking me three months to finish the book.

I feel like I’m in a game of tug-of-war.  I really hated that game as a child because I was always the last one picked.  Who wants a scrawny, weak girl on their team for a competition like that?  But inevitably, every last person would be chosen, and we’d begin.  There we were in the hot summer sun – heels dug in the dirt, fingers clenching the rope, bodies leaning backwards until we fell that way or were pulled forward. 

And I’m in this game again, only this time I’m the rope.  God is calling me to something…I can feel it in my bones.  And never have I been as selfish as I am now.  Back and forth, the tugging sways me to give myself away or hold on to what I perceive to be mine.  Only it’s not really mine.

Deep down, my greatest fear isn’t what I’ll have to give up to serve and to love God fully.  My greatest fear is that I won’t be able to do that, won’t be able to pray the prayer of “anything”, and that God will then have to break me.  And what will that cost?  I’m afraid God will make me learn my lessons the hard way.  It’s an irrational fear that flies in the face of a loving God, but it speaks to the depth of my desire to control my own life instead of letting go.

Elisabeth Elliot said, “If my life is surrendered to God, all is well.  Let me not grab it back, as though it were in peril in His hand but would be safer in mine!”  That control thing is a little tough for me.  And I see it as if God is asking me to walk the plank, blindfolded, like Wendy in Peter Pan.  What if I step off, and the crocodile gets me?  In reality, he’s simply asking me to behave like a baby bird and reach beyond the nest.  Spread my wings and trust that he’ll lead me, gliding, into a sunrise of possibilities. 

I’m not quite ready for “anything”, but I know that’s where I’m headed.  Dying to self daily – completely – is the only way my life will find its way to purpose.  Besides, the bird that stays in the nest misses out on the beauty and splendor of soaring above and through this place.  And I want to soar.

Jesus said to fishermen, “Follow me.”  And they dropped their nets and followed him.  They were fishermen, and they dropped their nets, their way of life, their livelihood.  To follow him.  To soar.  I need to know if I’m willing to do the same.