art of trusting

The first trees that let go of their leaves are the most courageous.

How do they have no fear of the change or the unknown?

Don't they know it will be months until they bloom again?

Does that not shake them?

See, the trees have mastered the art of trusting. They feel the dry air, the shift in the stratosphere, the cooling temperature and they smile.

Now is the time for beauty.

The time for them to rest. The time for survival. 

The trees have been gifted a magical force that helps them survive the freezing temperatures of winter. They are willing to surrender their identity of evergreen beauty. They have lived enough winters to know this is merely temporary, that seasons come and seasons go. 

So the air shifts and so do the trees. The life pulsing through their veins moves slower. The soft leaves dehydrate and become crispy. Vivid colors overtake these trees of strength and onlookers marvel. Because when something or someone goes through a season of change it is absolutely stunning, despite the inner turmoil, as they surrender their wills to the one that is greater than them. 

It is the inside of the tree that does the most wonderful thing. The very nature of the cell changes to become more pliable, chemical reactions cause the starch to turn into sugar creating a natural antifreeze and lastly the liquid of a tree becomes like glass to remain a liquid and avoid freezing. 

It is this miracle that allows a tree to survive winter. 

It is the trust that awes me and leads me to believe that the trees that let go of their leaves first are the most courageous. And I realize I am called to be like the tree. The air is shifting and the temperature is cooling, instead of allowing my heart to panic at the season to come, it ought to smile.

Now is the time for rest. Because the work that God has done this summer to change the very core of my being and the work He will do in preparation for the hunkering down of winter will allow me to survive. 

For a moment, I thought I was the leaves. That the tree was letting go of me, that I would fall to the ground and be only a remnant of beauty, only something that thrived in the abundant months of summer. And there was despair. 

But then I realized, I am the tree. The leaves are the things I must let go of and surrender. They are the things that are not bad but not what the Lord is calling me to do. They are the things that hold me back from being all that God has called me to be. They are my fears - the ones that cause me to doubt the goodness of God. They are my insecurities - the ones that hold me back from being all that I need to be. They are the walls that I build - the ones I believe will keep me safe, but truly only suffocate me. 

And it is incredible that God built nature with a need for rest. I read a quote a few days ago that sticks with me, "Nothing in nature blooms all year long, so don't expect yourself to do so." The God who created beauty, created it for times of dormancy, for times of rest.  Just as He created me for times of rest. If the God of abundance created us to restore and refresh, then why do we feel condemned when we do not do all the things the world has given us to do?

And the thing is, you cannot stop the coming of winter. No matter how hard you try, no matter what you do it is inevitable. So the trees teach us the art of beautiful surrender. They allow a glorious work to be done in them so that when Spring comes, they again can show us splendor. 

Despite what is happening in our lives, whether we have filled our time with too much, if God is prompting a season of rest and you are wearing thin, it is not a call to push yourself to the point of exhaustion, it is time to surrender to the will of the Giver of every good and perfect gift, and trust that He is calling you to a time of restoration, not of condemnation. 

As my leaves turn, I will trust that God is all good and that the impending winter is a call for rest for my soul. I can trust that He will take me in the shadow of his wing and hold me close in the terror of the winds and deadly pestilence that stalks the night. Because no, God doesn't end the winters, instead he shows up in the midst of the winter and blankets me with snows and clothes me in comfort. 

So, I lay me down. I surrender my knowing, I surrender all of me in exchange for all of Him. So that He can take this leaking soul and fill it with His greatness and glory. I let go of what I thought was my splendor in exchange for rest. Soon, he will fill me with more, so that these dry bones will live again and these heavy lungs will breathe in deep. I have prayed that He would take me where my trust is without borders, so here I am, borderless and afraid, falling wonderfully into His grace.

not enough

It was a Jenga of the heart, a balancing act. I kept removing pieces, praying it would be okay.
It very well would have been had those pieces not been placed on top. Each block pertinent to my soul, taken, leaving a gaping hole. New blocks, placed recklessly, unbalanced on top, threatening casualties.
My life quickly becoming a see-saw, each move initiating question of my mental health, balancing dangerously between okay and not.
Each move threatened to be a cherry on top of a very unsteady sand castle.
The magma of this volcano bubbled just beneath the surface,
an eruption is coming.

The first part was these self-inflicted expectations. These thoughts that said I had to be the perfect person, I had to be exactly what everyone needed me to be at every given moment of every day. My identity and central focus suddenly wrapped up in becoming this person I could not be. And when I was not enough, suddenly I was a failure. I couldn't do it. The person I was resembled my humanity, all too well.There was no forfeiting of this identity. I am human through and through. Therefore I cannot meet my expectations because the expectations I have put on myself are equivalent to God.

I cannot be God. Yet, I have fashioned myself into a mini-god. My heart's desire is to be enough for everyone. But what if I'm not enough? What if the truth of the matter is that I am not, nor will I ever be, enough?
I am not enough.
You are not enough.
You will never be enough.

I suppose that should be discouraging.
I suppose it should just crush my heart.

But it is the most freeing statement.
No, I am not enough.
No, you are not enough.
But Jesus Christ is enough.
He is all supreme.
"He is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn over all creation. For by him all things were created: things in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or powers or rulers or authorities; all things were created by him and for him. He is before all things, and in him, all things hold together." (Colossians 1:15-17)

I'd like to say it is as easy as wrapping my mind around a verse, repenting of my self-sufficiency and asking Jesus to be my strength.

It is a process. It is a journey. Along the way, more pieces of my Jenga puzzle will come out and I'll trust that the pieces my Father places back on are good. The magma will continue to bubble and soon I may erupt.

But if Christ is enough, he will cover the eruption and the destruction.
If Christ is enough, the questions don't matter.
If Christ is enough, He is the answer.

Since Christ is enough, my heart is secure.
Since He is enough, there is safety.

I will not be Savior for those who need me. He has called me to be a friend, sister, daughter. Not healer, fixer or savior. He knows the amount of time in a day and how much time I need for Him, sleep and self-care. Everything else will flow straight from that.
We are not enough.
But he is MORE than enough.

So I let go of these far-fetched expectations of who I will never be
and I fall heavily into the freedom that Jesus' grace is sufficient for me.
What I do does not matter, it is not measured on a scale.
Who I am is not defined by what I do, it is defined by the mere fact that I am covered with His wings, I am resting in His love, I am breathing by His grace, I am loving by His redemption, I am held together by His sufficiency.
I am not enough.
But He IS enough.