I guess it's time...

I’ll start by saying that I’ve planned to write this blog for a while now. I guess I’ve finally realized that that if I put it off any longer, I’ll never get it done. So here it goes.

This past weekend I was back on the island for our dear Shannon’s wedding, which by the way was beautiful. Being back on the island and at camp brought mixed feelings and many emotions. It was so good to see all you Kaleos who made the journey out, but it was also hard not being able to see all you who couldn’t make it out.

One of the mornings while staying at the Badke place I took advantage of being awake much too early for a Saturday morning and walked down to the beach, to the spot where I would regularly walk to during Kaleo. Being back in that place, on the beach again was beautiful. Painful. Hard. But needed. I hurt to see who I’ve become since Kaleo, or rather who I’ve not become. I’ll be honest. It has been hard being back at home. Not okay, but rather it’s been rough. And most of it due to myself, no one else. Coming back, even for a few days has brought so much guilt and regret. Knowing that i’ve let so much slide and that I failed at the whole transitioning. Coming back down to the ocean, to the spots and places where I’ve experienced much struggle, hopelessness...but then victory, and joy, and peace. The places where in a way I began my journey in abandonment, in surrender through the quiet times spent being still before the Lord. It hit me so hard that I’d failed. That I was failing. In a way, even writing this all out for all of you to read is not coming easy. It hurts. It’s hard to be open and honest. I haven’t been honest and open much since coming home, even with those I’ve talked to. My pride has gotten in the way. It’s disgusting. I want to say that I’m doing good, and keeping my priorities where they should be with God first, but that hasn’t been the case. I hate how I’ve spent my time, interacted with my family, and how little I’ve spent in reflection and worship. I hate how I’ve sulked, avoided God and others. My solo time has been sparse and unproductive. I’ve been too busy complaining that God wasn’t continuing to speak and make his presence felt, but really I haven’t been pursuing it. I’ve been settling. My life has not been radically different. I have not been living out the change that God has done in my heart.

I hate admitting it, but I have to be honest before I can move on. Honestly confessing that I’ve messed up and confessing that it has been a struggle being home, even when I’m perfectly content to hide it. But the truth is I didn’t come this far to forget, to slip, to fall. And something that struck me during the time I spent alone by the ocean was God’s faithfulness. In the time where I felt so sick at myself, with guilt weighing so heavy on my heart, he reminded me of his faithfulness, even when I was lacking faithfulness. In his faithfulness he allowed me to come to this place where I was so disgusted at myself, where it became so incredibly clear to me that something needs to change. He brought me to my knees. To a place of brokenness; recognizing that I cannot do this on my own, nor does He want me to. Even when I fail, he does not stop pursuing me, and desiring me to do the same for Him.

Coming home has made me realize how there are things in my life that I have not surrendered. During the eight months away from home, removed from the tension and conflict in my home, it seemed like I had given it all to God. But now I know why I need to prayer so I can ‘Recklessly Abandon’. Living back in a home that is filled with tension, it’s evident that the bitterness, hurt, and anger still exists. I haven’t surrendered. I’m still holding onto so much hurt without fully forgiving my dad. Realizing how badly I had hoped for change in my family and then coming home and seeing things worse instead of restoration and healing has been hard. I hadn’t known how much hope I had, and now it is a lot easier to slowly let go of that hope instead of clinging to it with all that i have. But I am not ready or willing to let go of the transformation that has taken place in my heart over these eight months. I'm ready to fight for this. For hope, for forgivness, for reckless abandon.