The Call

                                                The Call


       It’s 3:00 a.m.. The room is cold. Wrapped in a blanket holding a warm cup of steaming tea I find my resolve. What has been happening to me? I burry myself deeper in the blanket recalling the events of late. Almost out loud I utter “Is this real, Is this really happening?” It would take to long to voice all the thoughts in my head, the questions race so quickly through my mind that I can only speak a few words here and there out of my mouth in shock. “Am I ready for this? Can I honestly do what I have been pressed to do? Why me?” My thoughts drift to Moses; all the Sunday school lessons and bible studies couldn’t have given a more cinematically clear picture of what my mind was displaying before me: A huge fire, a thundering voice, a man cowering on the ground all to aware that his life was about to change forever, not just for a moment , but in that moment of fear gripping reality he knew he would never be the same.

     The alarm goes off and catches me off guard. My tea is now cold. My thoughts had run me into an exhausted sleep, it was 7:14. I look at the pen and paper lying on the coffee table and I know that today is the day that a battle will be fought on paper. It isn’t even the kind of thing I have words to describe. I’m still in shock, I’m still so uncertain of my own abilities. Like a modern day Moses, I exclaim loudly in my mind, “Who will listen? I don’t know how to do this. Why have you shown me a captive nation in need of freedom? Who am I?” As I sit and unwittingly doubt God’s choices I find myself burning; a slow burn at first, but the crackle of the fire is symbolic of the doubts breaking in my mind. The fire picks up again and I hear the voice. “I am”. Just two small words but it is enough for me to pick up the pen, enough for me to close my eyes and quietly say, “Then I will.” I have no idea was spiritually charged weapon was forged in the fire of my obedience in that moment. But even in that moment the doubt crept in, more subtle but still there and my wrestle with self doubt ever present. Will I always doubt what is God’s voice and what is my own? How can I write an accurate account of the events that have transpired with my human fallible words, when the events themselves are so unexplainable. “God I desire to tell your story but my words are not enough, my words are so small in comparison to the feelings inside of me. And what I have to say is so unbelievable, they won’t believe me.” A pause, a silent (four million year) second passes. “I Am! I Am with you, I have chosen you.” I think again to Moses, all the judgment I passed on him, calling him a fool for questioning God, thinking he was a fool to want to pass on an opportunity to be great as opposed to being an ordinary nobody. I’m not judging now. Now I am asking the questions. Now I am feeling the fire, and although the fire is burning inside of me I find myself at an impasse.



      I have to choose to give him my doubt and fear. I can’t take them with me on this journey. I have to leave them and it’s like leaving a companion, an old friend. But in that moment of surrender I realize that he isn’t leaving me alone, he is giving me new companions in exchange. I will need these new friends more than my awkward misbehaving traits of fear and doubt. The first is Faith: although at first very daunting to look at there is something very assuring in her face. The second is compassion, so very welcoming and my experience has left me needing this friend more now than ever before, this trait will keep my heart from growing hard against others who are living in pain. As I become acquainted with my new friends I realize that I am not morning my old acquaintances. I am equipped and in this moment of wholeness it occurs to me that God never meant for me to be alone in all of this. God designed this very moment of realization where I would see that fear keep you isolated and alone and doubt suppresses your dreams and robs you of security. But it is Faith that banishes loneliness and Compassion that secures your feet in purpose. I put the pen to the paper and it feels good to be free from the fear that had been a captor not a friend. My hands are free from the weights of the chains and can write without being held back. Being free from fear doesn’t mean I am not aware of the cost and the danger of what I am about to do; It just means that I am willing to move forward, knowing the only safe place is under God’s watchful eye.

     The pen hit’s the paper…

     “The events that have taken place as strange as they may seem are as true as the air I breathe. I take great care in writing each detail as accurately as I can and as descriptively as it happened so that you may experience the overwhelming truth, that we only see a part of what goes on around us. May it be said that I recorded what was asked of me by God so that we could know how very active he is in our lives every minute of every day.”