a trust thing

I'm sitting here, staring at my computer screen, and thinking, "I should write." I'm really unsettled still, although I did sleep a bit better last night, thank God. I have a mostly instrumental jazz album, put out by a really talented pianist named Mike Janzen playing on my stereo, and I'm sitting here and thinking, and staring at my screen, and trying to wrap words around thoughts I can't pinpoint and ideas I don't understand.

Last night was interesting, I suppose. It was, well, church. To be honest, in retrospect, I wish I'd gone to the Steve Bell concert with my brother instead, but it seemed important to be at the "family meeting." Long. That would be a good word to describe it. And there were faces missing in the group - people who've been around for a long time who couldn't make it for the evening, or are now heading in other directions, and that made me sad in some ways.

I had the chance to chat with Nolan and Faye, and that was fun. Showed a few people my art piece from this week, and that was kind of fun too.

The pub afterwards was good - just four of us girls, talking about life and work and God and boys and telling stories. Why was an hour in the pub far more meaningful and significant to my evening than a five hour "family meeting" at church?

I drove a friend home, and she told me something that made me smile and laugh and feel totally uncomfortable at the same time. God wants her to share her story. Which doesn't surprise me, because her story is great. What grabbed me is that God asked the same thing of me a couple months back, and I started to do it - but then I told someone who had journeyed with me fairly closely at times over the space of a couple of years, and that person very much minimized my experience of healing, destroyed any trust I had in them, and has left me questioning a number of things about my relationship to the church I have been calling home for the last three years. And, when my story of healing was minimized, I was silenced. I lost the desire to tell others - yeah, I've told good friends here and there, but I am afraid to tell the world at large - it's easier to sit in silence than to face the rejection of unhearing ears. And yet, at the same time I want to shout from the rooftops this thing that God has done in my life. I want to stand and give testimony to the healing love of Jesus. I want to tell the world that He was faithful through years of depression, and one night, He reached down and rescued me from that pit. I want to tell them that healing doesn't necessarily mean tidiness - that my healing has resulted in a life that is completely off balance, totally messy, and worth every second.

I'm thinking a lot about Mexico. Praying a lot for this trip, because I'm really scared to make it. It's a trust issue. In a whole lot of ways. Do I trust some people who've hurt me, but are playing a leadership role on this trip? Do I trust God to uphold me and help me combat these fears?

There are a lot of issues involved in this trip for me. I've avoided anything that could be labeled "missions" for a lot of years. Because short-term missions is really tied up in my relationship with my dad, and that's not always such an easy thing for me. He has definite opinions, is disappointed that I felt God calling me to Mexico, instead of on a team to Ukraine with my dad and brother and another man from my dad's church. When you add to that mess my fear thing - this thing that I can't explain and don't seem to have a lot of skill at combating, it could be a crazy trip. And one of my very "messy" friends is traveling with us, and that scares me too. Because I can't help wonder how much she'll need me, and how much of my emotional, physical and spiritual energy will be tied up in fighting my own battles for freedom on this trip.

I came home last night and found the CDs my brother purchased at my request at the Steve Bell concert. I lay in bed (avoiding sleep - and the unsettled awakenings) and listened to the music and read lyric sheets. Steve's latest album is covers of Bruce Cockburn's music, and I was caught by the following lyric (incidentally, if you love liturgical, reflective music, with a strong scriptural component, you must check out Steve's music):

Gone from mystery into mystery
Gone from daylight into night
Another step deeper into darkness
Closer to the light

God, I feel like I'm stepping into darkness as I make this trip. My heart's cry is that the step will be on that is closer to You.