As I drove to house church tonight, I was playing a Jason Upton CD again, just trying to soak for a while before entering house church which has been a place of tension and so on lately, and I've just been trying to spend the half-hour I spend driving there preparing my heart to meet God. Anyway, as I was driving, I was caught by the song "Run Baby Run." I played it over and over and over again. I must have listened to it 4 times on my way there, over and over, not really completely cluing into why this was significant.
House church was small tonight. We're in summer mode, and that means that people are all over the place. We spent some time simply sharing, and I ended up sharing with the group the tension in my family and home situation right now, and my need to find a job and buy a car so that I can move out of my parents home.
I've known for some time that God is continually calling me to deeper things. That He is placing before me the fulfillment of some of my dreams, that there is incredible freedom waiting for me on the other side of this time in my life, and that I will not be able to walk into these things while I am living in my parents home. I shared all of this, crying (which still always surprises me because it's still so new), and was prayed over, and am grateful.
But here's what became clear. I am living in a place of tension. I feel and hear God speaking words of release over me, over my life and my next steps. But I also feel that the push forward from God is being counteracted by the the grip of my relationship with my parents and brothers. So I am waiting, praying for the fulfillment of my needs as I posture myself to begin to take the steps God is asking of me.
I want to leave you with the chorus of "Run Baby Run" because I hear God speaking it so strongly over my life tonight. I had a picture earlier of the sense of God's release. Picture a child riding a two-wheeled bicycle for the first time. The parent steadies it, holds on, and then eventually lets go. But the letting go is not an abandonment, the child is not suddenly alone. The hands of the father are still there, still supporting, the father runs alongside to make sure the child is secure. I sense God speaking that kind of release over my life. Not a release where he lets go and I am suddenly alone, but a chance to fly, with his presence and support never wavering.
Run baby run
my hands release you
baby run baby run
just as fast as you can
run till your legs lead your heart to the real truth
youÂ’re my daughter, my son,
so run baby run baby run
