This Vast Ocean

I haven't written in a while. I don't just mean that I haven't blogged in awhile, though that's true too. But what I'm driving at is that I haven't sat myself down and let my jumbled thoughts and confused feelings flow through my pen onto paper, or rather, through my fingers onto the keyboard.

It's therapeutic really: the act of simply letting your mind fly and leaving your emotions behind. The punctuation, word choice, sentence structure, and all that your English teacher told you was important doesn't matter anymore.

It's freeing. There's nothing quite like it.

So with that, bear with me while I ditch my classically taught logical mindset for a moment, and simply let my thoughts soar.

Sometimes God's love seems incomprehensible. Who am I kidding? It always seems that way. I picture His love on a string, dangling in front of my face, almost hypnotizing me. I'm entranced by it. I'm dazed by it. I'm so fully overwhelmed in it's presence that I am dumbstruck. Immobile. Overcome. It is in this moment that all I want to do is stretch out my hand and grab it. I want to hold it in my hands, to feel it, to grasp it, to be immersed in it.

But this is where the immobile part comes in to play.

Why can't I seem to reach far enough? Wait, why can't I seem to reach at all? Why do I feel paralyzed? All I want is to understand, to hold on to that love, to never let it slip from my grip.

This past summer was an interesting one. I ran. I ran fast. I practically found myself fleeing. For those of you who just cringed when you pictured me physically sprinting, not to worry because, yes, I am speaking metaphorically. I ran from all that I knew. I ran from the truth that I had always been taught. I ran from the God that I had always served. I didn't just run, though. I hid and I lived behind a disguise. This isn't to say that God, himself, was fooled. I may be able to convince myself that everything is normal, but the same cannot be said for the God of the universe.

Allow me to rewind.

The day was 16 April, 2013. The setting was Wenatchee, WA. I arrived back in the small town that held my childhood and all that I found my identity in six months prior. I loved that evening. I saw my family. I saw my friends. I went to bed that night with one feeling: contentment. The following morning, however, was a different story. I felt an obvious void in my heart. I had left behind the beautiful Austrian Alps which had been my home for the past six and a half months. I had left behind the children I had loved and cherished. I had left behind some of the people who have had the biggest impact in my life thus far. And there I was, back in the place that started it all. Back where nothing was new and everything was comfortable.

This led to my summer: Four months that starkly contrasted and contradicted everything that I had learned on my Austrian adventure. I was lost and I sought to find something to fill that hole hidden somewhere within me. I searched and convinced myself that I found my refuge in the world.

My real refuge did not manifest itself until about two months ago, however.

I embarked on the next adventure. Portland called my name and as I embraced my inner hipster, I also embraced the source of my wanderings. It was so simple. How could I have missed it?

Fear of man.

I found that I was so entranced in what others thought about me. "Will my Christian friends think I'm not Christian enough? Will my non-Christian friends think I'm too Christian? How does my hair look? Are these shoes okay?"

My dad has a lot of sayings. Things he has repeated to me my entire life. One of the most valuable is this: "Your identity is in Jesus".

My identity is not in what I wear. It is not in who I hang out with. It is not in what others think of me. It is not even in how worthy I am of God's love. God brought me back to Himself and as I told a friend today, He simply said, "Okay, well that was a fun few months. Are you ready to get back on track now?" By His grace, I agreed. He placed me back in the passenger seat and gently took the wheel.

 The truth is this: God's love is vast enough for us all and I am no exception. God's love is immeasurable and incomprehensible.

And so we have reached the connecting point of the circle. If I have seen so clearly that He loves me, then why can't I simply grab that love that is hanging right in front of my face?

I want to feel His love, but I can't understand it.

But maybe, my friends, THAT is exactly the point. Maybe that is what I have searched for all along. Maybe while I struggled to understand His love, I had found my answer. All I had to do was simply accept that I won't be able to comprehend it.

Maybe we are supposed to drown in it. Maybe we are supposed to be overwhelmed by it. Maybe it is so powerful, so deep, so strong that we are merely supposed to feel it and bask in the comfort that we are in over our heads and while we don't have a plan, He does.

Maybe our job is not to understand the love, but to accept it and pass it on.



"This vast ocean of love cannot be measured or explained, but it can be experienced." -Sarah Young