It’s 3:00am and I’m still awake. Up. Down. Up. Down. Up and down again. My eyelids droop, but my heart can’t settle. So I sit here awake and think and pray and write.
I spent the past two days at a conference. It was nothing that I expected. I felt drained and emptied and lonely despite being surrounded by two hundred brilliantly bubbly and beautiful blogging friends. I wasn’t alone. In fact, I met exceptionally lovely people. But my heart was distant and quiet and contemplative and I wondered, “Why am I here?”
There was no self-loathing in my question. No feelings of inadequacy or incapability. Simply a vulnerably real question.
“Why am I here?”
Details draw me in and wrap tangibly around my brain like a blanket warding off a draft. And ohhhh there were sweet and straightforward details. Metrics. Resources. Inspiration. Honey to my heart for certain. But then one man spoke and with a two-minute story, the Spirit moved my soul. Deep called unto deep.
I was wrecked. I am still wrecked. And the bulldozer that began this work weeks–maybe years– ago finally toppled the wall standing in the way of simple obedience.
Now there is no question about what moves my heart. The only question that remains is, “Where will it move my heart?“– to what action? To what end? To what extent? To what cost?
Let me ruminate on it all for a few days. I need to think and pray and be still and listen and talk to my husband and hug my family a little tighter because, well…because I think that today was one of those monumental life days when you know that something just changed and nothing can ever be the same again. It just can’t. Because to stay the same would be to deny Jesus.