five months.

i haven't updated in that long!

two days after my last post, i found out that a friend of mine was murdered, and since then life has been a little insane. i feel like i tell this story once a day, but she and her boyfriend were shot at a campground near Virginia Tech, and five months later, the police still don't have any leads. That's what hurts my heart the most, still. I moved back into Wofford a few days after their funerals and just never really...snapped out of grieving mode? It was pretty bad now that I look back on it, I never dealt with it well; I just tried to power through my feelings and just trudged through life, day after day. I had a lot of other things going on at the time, too; I was thinking about transferring to Texas A&M and dropping my Bio major at Wofford, plus Young Life in Spartanburg was getting pretty messy with its leadership and I was more or less thrown into being in charge of YL at my high school at a time when I was nowhere near emotionally ready for that. I guess I went from September to November trying to get through the days, and I was just...doing it all wrong. When somebody that good dies...you just want people to notice, you know? You just want to yell, "No, wait, did anybody just see what happened?" but it was pretty unfair of me to expect the whole world to stop, and it took a really really long time for me to let God grab my attention and stop freaking out. The week before Thanksgiving, I was clinically diagnosed with situational depression and started going to Christian counseling in Spartanburg, where I was advised to take a medical leave of absence from school; so I did. I packed up and left just before Thanksgiving break and didn't receive credit for anything from last semester (which is good, because I was basically failing everything at that point). And I finally felt like I could breathe, because at least I would get a second chance with Wofford (I'm going back for spring semester on Feb 8th), but going home wasn't as easy as I thought it would be. There were a lot of ups and downs, a lot of different anti-depressants with a LOT of different side effects, a lot of questions, not a lot of answers, and not a lot of peace.

Things did get better! Thanks to good friends and people, Windy Gap, about 8 doctors, a lot of grace and a lot of Jesus, I'm on the other side of what has been the deepest, darkest, steepest valley I've ever trudged through. It feels good, so so good, to be sitting on the mountain, being able to reflect on the last five months. And when I think about everything Jesus has done for me...how much he means to me...I just cry. The good kind of crying, though. I cry a lot these days. I think about her a lot, about both of them, Heidi and David. I want so badly for there to be some breakthrough in this case, mostly for the sake of their families. I'm glued to the news, and their families just say the greatest things, and I always go write them on my prayer board, like when David's dad said, "I want whoever is responsible for this to know that forgiveness is available," and then their funerals were so beautiful, I go back and watch them sometimes. Not to mope, but just to be reminded how good things have come from this, people have met Jesus because of this, even in their deaths they were a testimony to Christ and as Laura, Heidi's mom, said, "God's purposes are greater than what someone intended for evil."

So, here I am, on the mountain and I am ready to move forward again with a newfound sweetness in my heart for the intricacies of Jesus. I cling to him tighter than ever, worship him more than ever, and love him more than ever. And now I'm just ready to turn around and be salt and light and love more than ever. The last thing that Heidi had up on her Facebook was Colossians 1:29, and I can't help but end this with the surrounding scripture:

"I have become its servant by the commission God gave me to present to you the word of God in its fullness— the mystery that has been kept hidden for ages and generations, but is now disclosed to the saints. To them God has chosen to make known among the Gentiles the glorious riches of this mystery, which is Christ in you, the hope of glory.
We proclaim him, admonishing and teaching everyone with all wisdom, so that we may present everyone perfect in Christ. To this end I labor, struggling with all his energy, which so powerfully works in me."
Colossians 1:24-29

This is an interview with Heidi and David's pastor, from way back in the fall:
http://www.foxnews.com/search-results/m/26131672/no-leads.htm

take to the sea

I have found, lately, that my emotional state tends to vary between extremes. I'm not used to this; I'm used to feeling great all the time. When I was a junior in high school, I chose to read Moby-Dick for some analytical reading thing; it was the longest one from our selection and I'm nothing if not a show-off. But I actually enjoyed it. I would say it's my favorite, but then I remember the 20-page narrative marathons about the unpleasant greyness of the sky. Anyway, my favorite part of the whole book in in the first chapter:

Whenever I find myself growing grim about the mouth; whenever it is a damp, drizzly November in my soul; whenever I find myself involuntarily pausing before coffin warehouses, and bringing up the rear of every funeral I meet; and especially whenever my hypos get such an upper hand of me, that it requires a strong moral principle to prevent me from deliberately stepping into the street, and methodically knocking people's hats off - then, I account it high time to get to sea as soon as I can. This is my substitute for pistol and ball. With a philosophical flourish Cato throws himself upon his sword; I quietly take to the ship. There is nothing surprising in this. If they but knew it, almost all men in their degree, some time or other, cherish very nearly the same feelings towards the ocean with me.

And that's how I feel a lot sometimes. I'll admit that I have a tendency to hermit and overthink and run away from my problems. But I found my sea, finally.

Whenever I get sad...or whenever I hate a moment or a day even a little, I put on jeans and my summer staff shirt and my cowboy boots and I go lay out in my yard, pretend that it is a sunday night, and turn on drew holcomb & the neighbors. And sometimes, if the breeze is blowing right, I can trick myself into thinking that I'm on the back porch of Lariat or sitting at Sunset Point, or maybe down in the grass overlooking the valley. And it makes everything okay again.

may you see drops like stars

what up, fool?

well...the day has come; I am officially the only one left in Abingdon. Everyone is off to college, so I've got a week to get all ready to head back to South Carolina. Packing has never ever ever been my thing. It's the only thing I have ADD with; I'd rather learn about Botany than pack. This is not a drill.

So anyway, I was out getting going away presents yesterday, and I got the whole set of Rob Bell books for Caroline, because I want her to read them anyway but I'm too attached to my copies right now to send them to Knoxville. And, I found the greatest thing ever! The NEW Rob Bell book is out! It's called Drops Like Stars, and I was a little surprised because it's not a little paperback, it's this HUGE hardcover book! (My advice: don't buy it at a bookstore. I paid $35 for it and then found out that it's $23 on amazon.com. Oh well, you live and learn.)

IT IS SO GOOD. I had been planning on going to the Drops Like Stars tour, and this just made me even more excited about it! Rob will be in Charlotte on October 7th, and I am so there. Even if I have to go alone...which I doubt, haha. Here's the tour teaser:

We plot, we plan, we assume things are going to go
A certain way and then they don’t and we find ourselves
In a new place, a place we haven’t been before, a place
We never would have imagined on our own,

And so it was difficult and unexpected and maybe even
Tragic and yet it opened us up and freed us to see
Things in a whole new way

Suffering does that—
It hurts,
But it also creates.

How many of the most significant moments in your
Life came not because it all went right, but because
It all fell apart?

It’s strange how there can be art in the agony…

fear, or something like it.

today was a pretty great hair day.

i spend most of my life these days either a) laying on caroline's bed watching her pack for college, or b) eating breakfast, lunch, and/or dinner with people i haven't spent real time with in a year. That's my little cycle. For instance, on Tuesday night I had dinner with some of my friends from high school, then last night I went out to a little Abingdon townie pizza place called Bella's with the same group minus one person. And then I met two of those girls again for breakfast today, then went and had a pedicure and lunch with one of those girls...and tomorrow morning I have a breakfast date with the original four girls that this all started with on Tuesday. What the heck? I mean, I like it, but I've spent like $50 on pizza and breakfast sandwiches and potato soup in like...48 hours. And when I'm not eating food with friends from high school, I'll just roll over to Caroline's and see what she's up to. What a life I have.

But there's more to all this...I've discovered (or observed, more like it) something a little unsettling. When I'm home, I hang out with some derivative of two basic groups of people. Group A is the three girls that were my d-group during my senior year of high school; Caroline, Bridget, and Lauren. They're all a year younger than me. Then, Group B is made up of girls I actually graduated with; Julie, Julia, Jessica, and Brittney. And I've been around both groups pretty much every day this week, and I noticed today that every single one of those girls is either in some sort of serious relationship, the only exception being Bridget, and she just got out of one. And it makes me feel like a third grader. Like, I have had absolutely nothing at all to contribute to any conversation I've "had" this week, because they've all been centered around these boyfriends. And it's weird. I never noticed it before. Everyone around me right now is in sort of serious relationship...and it's a little suffocating. I don't mean that to sound like I don't want to be around people, I just think it's a little...funny. Maybe that's why people think I'm quiet all of a sudden, because I don't have anything to add to the "how we first met" story times, and can't talk about things that my boyfriend does that drive me nuts, and I can't really give any of them advice on anything either, so I just sit there and drink my diet coke and take it all in. And it's not like all my close Abingdon friends are about to get married or anything, it's just that a couple of them are in pretty legit long-term relationships; I'm talking about girls my age with third year anniversaries coming up next month. And I'm pretty sure that most of them "see themselves" marrying the guys they're with.

And it's starting to make me feel defective. I mean, I don't have low self-esteem or anything like that, but I feel like I just noticed this and missed the boat on some "this is what you're supposed to be doing right now" memo in girl world. I mean, I made the conscious decision to not date my first year of college, because I wanted to fall all the way back in love with the Lord before I thought about that sort of relationship with a man of God. And my best reasoning for that desire stems from two long-term experiences; one from my parents teaching me that love was to be earned, the second from pseudo-dating a boy for two years in high school who made me feel like no one else would ever ever love me. All in all, I started college with the skewed notion that I was completely inadequate in and would never be worthy of love. And I know this to be untrue; I know that God tells me otherwise. He tells us, "All beautiful you are, my darling. There is no flaw in you" in Song of Solomon. I know and trust fully that God loves me, all crap included. My hang-up, however, is believing that people do. I mean, shove me in a room with that guy from high school and it's like, all of a sudden my confidence shatters and there's a voice in my head saying, "You're not pretty. You're not fun. Nobody wants to be around you, you have nothing to offer, you're worthless," which I strongly believe is Satan trying to completely wreck my life. And I don't think there's anything I hate more than that. So this one situation with that one guy has affected and scarred me so deeply that I never ever want to get close to another guy. I have zero desire to date, I have zero desire to even entertain that thought. I'm not ready for that, at all. I mean, I think about it sometimes, but then when I say no when I get asked out by or set up with perfectly nice guys. When I got back from Frontier, people were a little shocked that I didn't come home claiming that I was in a relationship. So what it boils down to is that I'm actually pretty disappointed in myself that I haven't bounced back from this relational catastrophe from high school. I mean, for two years, I had this big "stay away" tag on me because I was chasing after some idiot who backed out on prom two years in a row and only really "liked me" when it was convenient. He was not my boyfriend. On the other hand, he wasn't just a friend either. Instead, our relationship was elastic, stretching between those two extremes depending on whether one of us needed the other for something, if there was a dance or some big event coming up where a date was necessary, and other varying factors. This was exactly what I wanted, as commitments had never really been my thing. And it wasn't like it was hard, either. The only trick was never giving more than you were willing to lose. And that turned into a big mess where I literally was existing in desperation, I never really "gave up hope" until he started outwardly emotionally abusing me, and by the time I realized that was going on, it was pretty embarrassingly late in the game. And I never did anything physically scandalous, I've never even kissed anyone, so that really tells me that all this pain and reservation is strictly emotional. I've been in these big awful emotionally deteriorating situations and I can't really sing praises about them; I feel unloveable and unwanted, and am at the point where I'm about to move to Texas and only come home for Christmas because I feel like my relationship with my parents is going nowhere fast; I don't really know I believe them when they say they love me. They do, they just don't know how. One day I'm going to feel safe, and happy, and wanted. Surely I am those things now, but I don't see it or feel it or know it to be true because if I have ever felt loved by someone, it's been temporary or very conditional and I can't live that way. I can't love that way, that's not what Love even is. Because I've seen what love is; God is love, and I have Him, so I have real love. Everyone says love hurts, but that is not true. Loneliness hurts. Rejection hurts. Losing someone hurts. Envy hurts. Everyone gets these things confused with love, but in reality love is the only thing in this world that covers up all pain and makes someone feel wonderful again. Love is the only thing in this world that does not hurt.

And yet, I have pain, but I also have all this contentment within Christ. I'm actually pretty confused as to what my problem actually is...that I have the love of God but won't let myself accept human love? I can't figure this out, really. I was talking to a staff wife at Frontier who is actually a therapist, and I remember making the comment to her that I would be okay if no one ever really loved me, because I knew that God did and that was good enough for me. And she was a little taken aback at that I guess, and she grabbed my hand and said, "Oh honey, but He doesn't intend for life to be that way."

I still can't really figure out this Texas deal. It all fits together somehow, I know it does. Somebody somewhere is going to love me, or maybe someone already does, and maybe they're in Virginia, or maybe they're at Wofford, or maybe they're in Texas. And maybe my parents will become followers of Christ, and maybe everything will work out. I'm pretty sure it will work out. I'm not even sad about all these things...I mean, I am, but it's not the kind of sad that overwhelms my life and robs me of my joy, and for that I know I am lucky.

I guess this is all what makes me the way I am. I guess figuring it all out is why I'm so quiet.

scared? maybe a little.

this week has been so very wonderful. i finally feel like things are beginning to smooth out. i mean...i haven't done anything groundbreaking or had some big beautiful epiphany or figured my life out, but things feel...better.

Lauren left for Wheaton today! Caroline and Bridget go Saturday, and then all my friends from home that I graduated with leave this weekend as well, so it's Goodbye Week 2K9. And I guess I should be sad or something, but I'm really not. God's really giving me a lot more peace with this whole Texas deal. One of the negatives on my pro/con list (don't judge me) is the whole deal where I would be shoved into independence...apartment, commuting to campus, going to school with 50,000 people, being 17 hours from home, etc. And Lauren is all the way in Chicago, so I mean, if she can do that as a freshman, surely I can. I was spending some time this week with a few girls that I graduated with, and one of them just got an apartment at Virginia Tech, and basically I've just been talking with a lot of people who are in some derivative of the situation I'd be in. Far from home, living off-campus, stuff like that. My friend Brittney just quit her pre-pharmacy program to come back home and do nursing because she wants to have a family and a life, and not be in school for 8 years and have a misery-inducing job. I was watching My Best Friend's wedding the other night, only half paying attention to it, and I looked at the tv for a minute and Julia Roberts said something along the lines of, "Well sometimes you just go to random places like College Station, TX!" and that's where A&M is. More or less, I've pretty much had all the signs and reassurance in the world that I'm not going to medical school.

The only real question for me at this point is whether or not I'll leave Wofford. I thought about not going back at all, but it's a little too late to pull a stunt like that. I'm pretty sure that it's going to be the hardest thing in the whole world to go back there without this decision finalized...I'm so so so so terrified that I'll talk myself out of all this, and that I'll stay in South Carolina out of fear. And I guess the fear is coming around because I've hit a plateau in the application process; everything's all filled out, I just can't mail my Wofford transcript into admissions until I physically go pick it up from the registrar. But I still...don't feel sure. i guess I feel like I might be making some big fabulous mistake, this is a pretty huge life change, everything about it feels pretty major. New state, new major, new life plan, new friends, summers in Colorado, only home at Christmas. This is all about might...it might hurt, it might not work out, it might be awful, i might hate it, i might love it, it might be great, it might be perfect, it might be everything...and I can't help but hear this little voice in my head go, "By the way Amanda, if you do this, if you leave, everything about your life is going to change completely; and if you don't do it, you're always going to wonder why you stayed." And honestly, I can't think of a good reason to stay. Maybe that's a pretty good reason to go.

I've also been told by a ton of people this week that I've gotten shy. Really close friends, like Bridget and Lauren, too. And that really worries me. I'm not shy...ever. I'm not quiet, I don't not talk about things, I'm loud and ridiculous and I'm not sure how my personality would work at all if it was subdued. Maybe it's from where I've been praying to be less dramatic. I guess that was a bigger issue than I realized.

I can't sleep.

The day has come. My doctor put me on prescription sleep medicine. I'm now one of those people. I told her the drill, that I'll just lay there for four hours going over all these options and variables, going through what if's and big schematic hypothetical situations and wondering what would happen with certain people and places and responsibilities if I stay and hate it, if I go and hate it, etc. She cut me off and told me to try and stay away from stressful situations. I laughed. So, sleeping pills might be my least favorite things in the whole world. First of all, I would just like to say that Ambien is not as wonderful as the commercial makes it out to be. You know how they say "don't take this unless you can devote at least 8 hours to sleep"? Well they mean the "at least" part, I took some at midnight, slept through my 9am alarm, and woke up at 3:30pm, and then was so drowsy that I could barely make it into the kitchen to make a pb&j before I went back to sleep for a lovely 6-hour evening nap.


So now I'm left to my own devices to start sleeping like a normal person again. I've tried everything; warm milk, sleeping on the couch, sleeping in the guest room, eliminating sugar and caffeine intake (and that is a BIG deal), and last night I even tried sleeping at a friend's house. Best friend Caroline's house, actually. She even has one of those neat sound soother things that makes the noise of the rainforest or beach, and I just laid in bed for 2 hours like usual. I went down to her living room at 2am and her dad was still up, so we watched Cops for about half an hour, then he went to sleep and I started reading a John Piper book I brought with me. It's actually legit, it's called "What Jesus Demands From the World" and it's one of the books I ordered on a whim for my trip to Colorado, but didn't actually take it with me on the plane because it's a 600-page hardback. But I'm about 50 pages in and I'm hooked. I basically underlined everything. So far he's talking about the logistics of God-glorifying obedience to Jesus, not really into the meat of anything yet. But each chapter is a demand of Christ, like I've read "You Must Be Born Again" and "Repent" and then chapter three is "Come to Me" and bravo, Piper. The chapters are really short, there are only 50 and some of the more major ones are lengthy, obviously, but the introduction to the book talks about the authority of Christ, one section particularly about the atuthority and intimacy under the Final Commission:

You can feel the two come together in what Jesus says on either side of his final command to make disciples. On one side he says, "All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me" (Matthew 28:18). And on the other side he says, "Behold, I am with you always, to the end of the age" (Matthew 28:20). The one says, "I make demands because I have the right. All authority in the universe is mine." The other says, "I make demands because I will help you. I will be with you forever."

I'm intrigued. I haven't been this intrigued about a book...in a while. That could be because I've read "The Shack" three times while I was at Frontier, and also because I've been on an emotional purity (yes, I read "I Kissed Dating Goodbye" and I liked it. I could do a whole dang blog just on that business) kick for the last few months.

Anyway...my three best friends from home ship off to college in this next week. Lauren goes off to Wheaton on Wednesday, and then on Saturday, Bridget will be off to Roanoke College and Caroline leaves for Carson-Newman. Sad day. I guess it's not too awful, because I did this to them last year, but we're all pretty spread out now and it's not like Lauren can fly in from Chicago every weekend. I just love each of these girls with a deep part of my heart, we've been through just about everything with each other. And at any given time, some combination of the four of us is usually in some heated argument, or calling someone else out on their crap, or some derivative of non-compliance and I love it. Someone's always wrong, and I've been wrong with them plenty of times and it's taught me when to suck it up and swallow my pride and admit that. And it's taught me to be strong for them, since I'm the oldest I'm sort of the one who flew off in the real world first and had to report back on all the big scary things out there, and it's forced me to stay accountable. Because when your three best friends are girls, there are no secrets. You can't say anything to one that you don't want the other two to know. And I've learned more about honesty and integrity from that alone. And I love that we can talk about real things, like God and rapture and the end of the world, and they're not afraid to tell me that they don't like Young Life, and I'm not afraid to tell them that they spend entirely too much time with my boyfriends, and they're not afraid to shove in my face the fact that just because I'm older, it doesn't mean I'm always wiser. I love them. So this week will be pretty rough. Because as much as I hate all of our dumb arguments and drama, I'm gonna miss it big time.

I am beyond exhausted, I got back from Caroline's going-away party at midnight and then went for a run, followed by P90X Abs. All in an attempt to fall asleep. Here goes nothin'.

if you say go

I've been wrestling with God over a couple of issues for about a year. I don't mean a controlled verbal debate, I mean I've been acting like a 6-year-old child who isn't getting her way.

He's been trying to teach me patience and faith, asking me to specifically follow his instructions, but I've been kicking and screaming, yelling, "I want it now! Why not now? Why don't you just bless me now?" And I haaate it.

It's actually kind of ridiculous behavior. But it's had to be this way for me to come to this point. I'm the spoiled brat not getting her way, and He's the understanding Father trying to teach his kid a life lesson.

In March of last year, I felt like my whole life was in pieces. I didn't get into Harvard, I was just getting out of a rough two-year emotionally abusive pseudo-relationship, things with my family were starting to fall apart, and then Wofford came into the picture...it was my wilderness experience. It was the time I had to blindly walk by faith and trust God when he said, "Go to this place," even though I was scared. Now, I'm relating to Abraham the same way in a different part of his story.

Since I was five years old, I can remember dreaming about being a doctor. My dad taught me how to do a suture when I was 10, I would stitch bananas back together and have brain surgery on my Barbies. I was going to go to Havard, followed by Harvard med, and save the world. No sweat. That's just how it was. My whole life has been centered around this idea of being a surgeon. I've made it a part of my life without it ever even existing.

So as I've gotten older to my current stage of life as a sophomore in college, I've been frustrated that he hasn't followed my life plan and given me exactly what I wanted when I asked for it. I had it all mapped out. I would be done with med school when I was 25, do all my specialization, marry another surgeon, have this genius super family, etc. Instead, he asked me this summer to lay that big dream on the altar and stick a knife in it.

I've read Genesis 22 over and over again—slow, fast, in various translations. My favorite translation is in the New Living Translation. I've come to a few conclusions about this situation:

1. Some time later, God tested Abraham’s faith. “Abraham!” God called.

"Yes," he replied. "Here I am."

God liked to test Abraham's faith—a lot—didn't he? It almost seemed to be God's twisted way of messing with Abraham every now and then, just to see if he'd screw up. I feel like that sometimes. Sometimes I get tired of God's tests of my faith. I just want a summer break every now and then. But, alas, we all know that God tests our faith for good reasons and to grow us.

2. “Take your son, your only son—yes, Isaac, whom you love so much—and go to the land of Moriah. Go and sacrifice him as a burnt offering on one of the mountains, which I will show you.”

Can you imagine what Abraham thought when God asked him to sacrifice Isaac—his "son whom he loved so much"? I'll bet Abraham was pretty ticked. Why wouldn't God have asked him to sacrifice something easy, like a ram, a sheep, or even some luxuries in life? Why his beloved son?

I can relate. I have begged God over and over to take something else. I've even gone so far as to offer up myself as a lifelong foreign missionary, start all these cool charities, never to enjoy Froot Loops, snow, or Christmas ever again, just so I could keep my dream—the dream that I love so much.

3. The next morning Abraham got up early. He saddled his donkey and took two of his servants with him, along with his son, Isaac. Then he chopped wood for a fire for a burnt offering and set out for the place God had told him about.

I know it seems like Abraham was quick to run and chop up some firewood so he could rush his son to the sacrificial altar, but don't let the lack of details in this passage fool you. There's no way he sprinted to Moriah. He probably took his time going up the mountain so he could savor a few last moment with Isaac. Along the way, I'm sure he thought over and over, "God, are you sure you want me to do this? This seems like the craziest idea you've ever had. Maybe I didn't hear you correctly."

It's taken me more than a year to make it up the mountain. At first, I thought I could rush up and shove it on the altar because God really wouldn't take it from me. Instead, he would provide me with exactly what I wanted in its place. But I was wrong. He really does want this precious dream of mine—every piece of it. And I've sauntered up the side of the mountain for a long while, hesitating all along the way, clutching it tight in my arms, and wondering if I shouldn't just turn around and carry it back to the bottom.

4. On the third day of their journey, Abraham looked up and saw the place in the distance. “Stay here with the donkey,” Abraham told the servants. “The boy and I will travel a little farther. We will worship there, and then we will come right back.”

After a year, I'm now standing where Abraham was. I can see the altar from here. So why can't I just walk up and lay it down? I don't know yet. God has worked me over all the way here. I've had to worship him the whole way up.

I do know that on this journey, I've gotten rid of some things—insecurities, issues that weren't yet resolved, things from my past—that I otherwise would've held on to. These were the things I needed to get rid of to make it to the top.

The most incredible times of worship—when I have never felt God's presence more—were the times it was just me and Him. The times I felt the greatest pain in my life. I can imagine Abraham was feeling some incredible pain as he escorted his son up the mountain, but knew that he would worship in his agony when he reached the top.

It seems as though the pain of this journey has increased the farther along I go. I know that it's coming. Soon I'll have to let go of this dream. When that time comes in just a short while, I'll be in pain. And in that pain, I'll worship.

5. So Abraham placed the wood for the burnt offering on Isaac’s shoulders, while he himself carried the fire and the knife. As the two of them walked on together, Isaac turned to Abraham and said, “Father?”

“Yes, my son?” Abraham replied.

“We have the fire and the wood,” the boy said, “but where is the sheep for the burnt offering?”

“God will provide a sheep for the burnt offering, my son,” Abraham answered. And they both walked on together.

So many pictures run through my mind in these verses: 1) that Isaac, the sacrifice, carried his own cross to the place he was to die, just as Jesus did, 2) that Abraham would put him there and plunge the knife into his heart, just as our sin nailed Jesus to the cross, and 3) how true Abraham's words were—that God did, indeed, provide the Lamb of God to be sacrificed for our sins.

But I also questioned what Abraham meant here. Was he just confident that God would come through with a substitute? Or was he just trying to avoid panic and hysteria in his son when he found out he would be the sacrifice?

I don't know what God means for me. The outcome is uncertain. However, I do know that God's grace is enough for whatever happens. I do know that he, in his providence, will still reign supreme in my life. I do know that I am grateful for the sacrifice Jesus made for me on the cross.

6. When they arrived at the place where God had told him to go, Abraham built an altar and arranged the wood on it. Then he tied his son, Isaac, and laid him on the altar on top of the wood. And Abraham picked up the knife to kill his son as a sacrifice. At that moment the angel of the Lord called to him from heaven, “Abraham! Abraham!”

“Yes,” Abraham replied. “Here I am!”

“Don’t lay a hand on the boy!” the angel said. “Do not hurt him in any way, for now I know that you truly fear God. You have not withheld from me even your son, your only son.”

I understand why God wants this from me. I've made it my idol. I've been like a little child, clutching some posession, pouting and yelling, "It's mine! Not yours!" It's defined my life for almost 19 years. I've lost part of my identity to it.

Ultimately, my identity only lies in Christ. He's the only one that provides the definition for who I am in this world. He wants my total devotion. I started praying for brokenness on March 31, 2008 and he's worked his way in my life up to this point. He needs a direct line to me with nothing else standing in the way. And I'm willing to go there.

7. Then Abraham looked up and saw a ram caught by its horns in a thicket. So he took the ram and sacrificed it as a burnt offering in place of his son. Abraham named the place Yahweh-Yireh (which means “the Lord will provide”). To this day, people still use that name as a proverb: “On the mountain of the Lord it will be provided.”

Then the angel of the Lord called again to Abraham from heaven. “This is what the Lord says: Because you have obeyed me and have not withheld even your son, your only son, I swear by my own name that I will certainly bless you. I will multiply your descendants beyond number, like the stars in the sky and the sand on the seashore. Your descendants will conquer the cities of their enemies. And through your descendants all the nations of the earth will be blessed—all because you have obeyed me."

I've selfishly held on to this dream for a long time. In my mind, it's always belonged to me. But, God asked for it and I said, "OK." And it's been a long process giving it up. I don't know what will happen next—whether he'll take it up and consume it with fire, provide a substitute and bless me for my obedience, or do something completely out of the ordinary that I never thought of (which is usually what happens).

Whatever the outcome, he'll provide what I need and I'll be satisfied—even if it hurts. I've realized I'm too ridiculous to figure out my own life. I just keep screwing my "plans" up. I'm willing to let go of ALL the reigns and give him control. I'll trust and obey no matter what happens.

My prayer today:

Here, before your altar, I am letting go of all I've held—of every motive, every burden, every thing that's of myself. I just want to wait on you, my God. I just want to dwell on who you are.

Beautiful, beautiful—I am lost for more to say. Beautiful, beautiful—Lord, you're beautiful to me.

Here, in your presence, I am not afraid of brokenness, to wash your feet with humble tears. I would be poured out until nothing is left. I just want to wait on you, my God. I just want to dwell on who you are.

(Kari Jobe's "Beautiful")