The night before I started this second week focused on prayer, I awoke at 3 am with the zoo of thoughts in my head with which I am well acquainted. The lions roaring, elephants stomping and pythons hissing, all with the same question of just how I’m going to make a living following graduation. The ultimate outcome of the fear these voices expressed was undefined — I couldn’t see what bad thing might manifest — I was simply afraid that I would not have enough to take care of myself or that I wouldn’t find that path that brought me joy (because I still struggle with the idea that the paths that bring me joy don’t seem like ways I could actually sustain myself). Whether my fears are based in reality is not the point. In the moment, they felt real. More real than reality.
The theme of my prayer the next morning was “I abide in the love of Jesus.” My initial reaction to the word “abide” is one of discomfort. It recalls my former (and sometimes current but far less frequent) days of shame, of thinking that I was never good enough. I heard “abide” as the need to follow rules — all the don’ts that left me in constant fear that I’d end up in hell. I couldn’t even reach the love part. Yet the biblical understanding of “abide” is to dwell or remain in. So as I prayed I changed the word to rest. My Creator was calling me after my early morning freak out to simply find rest in the love of Jesus. And…
