I laughed somewhat in disbelief when someone told me over ten years ago, "You'll think about this summer for the rest of your life."
I just couldn't imagine at that point in time how true those words would be.
Because ten years later, I'm still thinking about that summer and how Jesus totally upended my world.
Ten years ago on May 26, 2005, I hopped on a plane and headed to San Diego, as part of a summer project with Campus Crusade for Christ. I don't think I fully understood what I had signed up for that summer, although I don't know that anybody really understands what they sign up for when they say "yes" to Jesus.
I walked into that summer feeling like a big ol' mess spiritually, a raging storm of doubt, fear and unbelief. I was scared out of my mind, honestly. I had a big long list of expectations, things I was waiting for God to do that summer.
I think there are some seasons of life when you expect to find yourself at the top of the mountain, and instead you find yourself at the bottom of the valley.
That summer in San Diego felt like the bottom of the valley.
I look back over the journal I have from that summer, pages and pages and pages (almost an inch thick by the time the summer was done) of wrestling out so much heavy stuff with Jesus. Some lines written in all capital letters, as if I'm yelling at God. Some lines scribbled so furiously I can barely read my own handwriting. Some lines full of memories that I have no recollection of apart from the words on the page. Some lines full of despair and sadness, frustration and fear. Some lines full of awe and wonder over the things I saw happening in and through me.
But man, that summer. That summer is when I found out what it really looked like to say I'm all in with you, Jesus. That summer is when I forged friendships so deep and so real and so authentic, unlike anything I had ever encountered before. That summer is when I found sweet and total freedom in Christ. That summer is when I saw God do things I didn't know were possible. That summer is when I caught a glimpse of godly men who loved Jesus and treated women like gold. That summer is when I caught a glimpse of what it looked like to no longer play the comparison game to other women surrounding me, but to discover they had their own set of insecurities and imperfections. That summer is when I realized my faith could no longer be based on what God did or didn't do in my life, but based rather on who He is - the unchanging, unfailing God that he is.
That summer I encountered a God who is big enough, and wide enough, and wild enough, and gracious enough to still claim me.
That summer I still think about 10 years later. And will probably spend the rest of my life thinking about.
I think there are some seasons of life when you expect to find yourself at the top of the mountain, and instead you find yourself at the bottom of the valley.
That summer in San Diego felt like the bottom of the valley.
I look back over the journal I have from that summer, pages and pages and pages (almost an inch thick by the time the summer was done) of wrestling out so much heavy stuff with Jesus. Some lines written in all capital letters, as if I'm yelling at God. Some lines scribbled so furiously I can barely read my own handwriting. Some lines full of memories that I have no recollection of apart from the words on the page. Some lines full of despair and sadness, frustration and fear. Some lines full of awe and wonder over the things I saw happening in and through me. |
| Me, Emily and Jenna - precious friends who helped shape my summer |
That summer I encountered a God who is big enough, and wide enough, and wild enough, and gracious enough to still claim me.
That summer I still think about 10 years later. And will probably spend the rest of my life thinking about.
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| Emily and I, back when I had a legitimate tan and slightly blonder hair. |
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| My beloved lime green beach cruiser that I rode everywhere that summer. One of my regrets in life is not buying that bike at the end of the summer. |
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