I have taken a couple of days away from writing my food story that I began here and here. I felt like that was appropriate because those days were incredibly dark. There are no quick answers. There are no easy solution. I am not a gifted writer so to put the depths of those emotions into letters and words that make neat paragraphs is heavy.
A couple of people have expressed concern about me and you are so precious for doing so. This is a topic that I have talked with other girls that are struggling on more of a one on one basis but I have never written it all down on paper. I have felt like I was supposed to actually put it on paper for a long time but every time I sat down to put words to the depths of the emotions and struggles they just seemed inadequate. On we go with my feeble attempt...
Each night it was expecting and believing that God would instantaneously and all of a sudden heal me.
Then, each morning being devastated that the battle had changed to- am I going to eat or not?
After spending the summer on Lake Cherokee where I asked God to search my heart over and over and for me to know and understand Him in a deeper way through this, an opportunity arose for me to travel with this group. I assisted in managing their first tour. We traveled in a tour bus to 25 different cities. In His kindness, the whole thing was a set up for healing. For me and thousands of college aged people. There were thousands that gathered in every city to worship and hear Louie.
During the actual events, I usually found a dark corner in the back. Bible and journal in hand. Sometimes I was quiet. Other times we were "dancing upon injustice." Whatever city we were in I poured my heart out to God, asking lots of hard questions of Him, and even more difficult questions of my own heart.
One night we were in the northeast in an old restored theater. Passion had been primarily in the south at this point and everyone was really excited that we had 500 college students show up for our event that night. We had blocked off the second story of the theater so that everyone would sit downstairs. I snuck up to the dark balcony for my date with Jesus.
That night I knew I was supposed to dance. Right there. In the theater. Full out. To worship music I did jetes, pirouettes, and choreographed as I poured an offering of redemption for the Lord. Sweet poetry only for Him...
Or so I thought. I got back to the tour bus afterwards. Louie asked me like he did every night, "So what did you think?" I answered like I did every time, "I had an amazing time with Jesus." Because I truly did. Then, one of the guys says, "Were you dancing?" (Oh no, my face was bright purple and there was lots of sweating that followed) Apparently, the lighting was just right that all the guys in the band could see. Oh my. OH MY. I just still throw my head in my hands and have to laugh at myself.
For Him its going to get even more undignified than this.
I went to bed hoping maybe that was it...tomorrow the clouds would clear. The next morning I woke up and the battle raged on.
I saw a little glimmer in the dark. I saw a worshipper. I was determined to worship. He deserved my worship. Even if I fought this the rest of my life, then I wouldn't quit fighting. I wouldn't give my worship to another.
I began to see myself through His eyes. This song washed over my soul time and again.