of what is to come

I have absolutely not recovered from "I miss Colorado" syndrome. My heart is still there and I long for the time and vulnerability I had with the Lord. That's not to say that He is not present where I am now, it's just that...a lot of other things are, too.

My month on summer staff was a gift of all gifts, and it came to me in a time when I needed the clarity of God more than ever...I mean, if my life was a book, my month away from home was the plot twist, and I can't tell you about it quite yet. Believe me, I want to...but I want to be able to tell this particular story of God's greatness in full.

Since being home, I've spent a lot of time sleeping, some time running, and most of it with people. Frontier showed me how relational I actually am. Shock of my life, an introvert that's relational. But yes, I crave being with people and getting to know them, hurts and fears and crap included, and more than that I crave seeing people process Lord. Not necessarily all the pretty parts of that, I enjoy watching the wrestling matches as well. That's a big reason why summer staff was so clutch for me; it was an environment full of peers who thought nothing of sitting (or more accurately, residing) at the feet of Jesus, and that's the life I want. I want to sit at His feet and I want to hear what He has to say. So yes, I am missing that place greatly.

God spoke at Frontier in a way that I've never experienced before. I was told by the property staff at camp that "nothing like this" had really ever happened in the history of Young Life. First of all, a swine flu outbreak? Really? Sending 200 campers home on Day 3 of our first week of camp and all 500 by Day 5? Really? Having the Work Crew isolated and the threat of camp getting shut down -- of Frontier Ranch, the granddaddy of all YL camps, getting shut down -- looming over our heads? Really? Camp groups canceling, a national flu screening policy, rerouting to other camps? Really? Having our precious camp director lose the love of her life at the end of Week 3? I've never felt like Satan was attacking holy ground as much as this. I remember...Day 1 of Week 2, when all the staff was put on TamiFlu, and some of us were literally packing our bags because we were so sure that we were all going to get sent home...I have never prayed so honestly or so boldly or so openly. Read Psalm 91. I experienced the Truth of that passage, lived it and breathed it for a month. Never have I had so much hope, never have I heard from God so clearly. Forgive me, I have so much to say and share that I'm unsure of where to even begin.

It changed my heart, and it changed the way I see God, not to mention the way I hear from Him, and I know that my life is about to change. In a big way. And I'm still figuring that out...not so much the when or the what, because the when is now. My struggle lies within whether or not I have any say in this particular matter, and to quote Zach, "Not if it's the will of God. If that's what we're dealing with, you've really got no choice here." I love the thought of that. And so I know what I have to do, but there are certain variables to consider. But I can't wait to tell the whole world, but I must be delicate in my delivery. So I'm asking for patience; I'll think on it, and pray on it, and I guess it's about time for me to witness to what I saw God during my time on that mountain. I'll never really be the same because of it, and that scares me, but it ignites the fire in my heart more than that.