Warning: The material you are about to read is inherently mushy and emotional. Read with caution. And a box of Kleenex…or a barf bag, whichever suits you.
I want to tell you I had yet another "God meets me where I am" moment, but it's more like a "God meets you where I am" life. I can no longer chalk up my blessings to singular moments or brief periods of time when I experienced God tangibly working.
I've been climbing this mountain, hoping to get to the top where some better version of myself awaits, looking at the breathtaking view, loving life. Throughout my climb, I've called out to that girl standing at the peak: "Hey, why don't you quit slacking up there and help me," "Why can't I see you," "What's the easiest way up?"
She wouldn't answer. As I climbed, I imagined what Future Jennie looked like, what kinds of things she would say, who her friends were, what color backpack she'd used to get to the top. None of her attributes or possessions looked like what I had. Her abs were definitely tighter. She was eloquent…or maybe she just put together coherent sentences without stumbling over herself. She had genuine friends who loved and cared for her dearly, not temporarily. Her backpack was pink and grey and mine was clearly black and blue. The more she ignored my cries for help and revelation, the louder I shouted, "Throw me a shoe," "This dude I know I'm supposed to marry just texted me, 'Hi', what do I reply," "Shout out some core exercises for me!"
The louder my shouts to Future Jennie became, the more I stumbled as I climbed. At first, those rocks were small, then bigger ones caused me to roll my ankles (a lot). I walked face-first into boulders, fell flat on my face after tripping over massive tree stumps, and stepped on one-too-many snakes as angry shouts grew louder. As I continued to drag my feet, my voice tired and eventually petered out. I decided she was never going to answer so I diverted my attention to my climb. I realized I was on the backside of the mountain and I'd missed who knows how many days of spectacular view. I had to stop.
My eyes wanted to look in every direction, all at once. I looked below me and saw the places where I'd fallen, but I could also see the footprints leading away from those spills. I looked around and ahead of me and saw the hand-holds that would pull me up to the next flat as well as the rocks I would need to avoid on the way up. However, when I looked up, there was still no Future Jennie at the top. She'd abandoned me. How dare her.
I started to call for her but I heard my echo: my own voice, bouncing off the other cliffs just to return to me. I suddenly felt like a fool. For the entirety of the climb, I'd been shouting to no one but myself. Little did I care to know or recognize, my shouts were heard by the One who stood at the top of the mountain, who carried me over the obstacles, and who walked with me even when my shouts were nothing but noise. And those little stumbles? They made me a little bit tougher. The big falls? They weren't anything that couldn't or wouldn't heal.
"Beloved, we are God's children now, and what we will be has not yet appeared; but we know that when he appears, we shall be like him, because we shall see him as he is." -1 John 3:2
"Beloved, I pray that all may go well with you and that you may be in good health, as it goes well with your soul." -3 John 1:2
So now I'm at the beautiful ledge, trying to soak in the view I've missed for so long, hanging out with my Trail Guide who calls me "Beloved." I can clearly see all the mess below me, but I know it's okay because I won't fall down there. There is no Future Jennie. She's a make-believe person who could never do what I already accomplish so well. With this body, with this mind, and with this heart I will continue to climb. What once were shouts of anger will become songs of joy, because I am climbing toward beauty, grace, and glory beyond comprehension.
