Prayer should be called “hugs from dad.” A space of complete comfort, complete wholeness. While some of us don’t have the best memories of our earthly Dad’s, those fatherly missteps are redeemed in the time spent with our ABBA, the one who made each part of us, and who wouldn’t change a thing.
For as long back as I can remember, if you asked me, “Who are you?”, I would answer back with a response fitting with the life I was currently living at that time, but always the thing that portrayed me in the best light. The earliest I can think back to this was in middle school- who I was was consistently defined by my accomplishments and positive attributes of the time.
One of the greatest misconceptions about Christianity, as a whole, is that we live in a world of regime and discipline, not allowed to make and create our own decisions. And for a large part, I can see why- conversations with God at the center of them in the public eye routinely make it seem like we are under a dictatorship, rather than active in a relationship.
I sit on the eve of meeting you, and I’m at a loss for words. Speechless to the growth and knowledge and pain and triumph that has happened leading up to you. There is not enough time in the world to explain to you all that has happened this past year- but maybe there is to tell you a bit of what I’ve learned.
It seems like just yesterday that I was sitting on the eve of my Apprenticeship at The Way beginning. Full of nerves, unsettlement, doubts, and excitement. Who would I meet? What would I learn? How would I get along with the other Apprentices? Would I know enough? Would God meet me there, and move in a way I’d never experienced? Luckily for me, He met me exactly where I was, and then some.
Recently, one of my mentors asked me to sit and take some time with Jesus and let him determine my season. We as humans are so quick to label ourselves by societal standards, and she wanted me to take some time and allow him to name me, rather than me name myself.