I found myself in tears a few nights ago;
fresh off a FaceTime date, I open my emails to two reminders of things I’m longing for, things I’m desperate for—to go and to write.
My heart wavers in belief towards them both.
Yes, I’m in the middle of going—the exact middle of my term, in fact.
And I’m also in the middle of writing—I’ve written more in the past 10 months than in the past 10 years, combined.
I’m beech mai in these twin callings, these twin pillars that I cannot for the life of me decide if I’m standing in between as a judge—Samson, enchained and destined to die in the defeat of the enemy…
or as a priest—Zechariah, holding incense and entering the holy places where God steps in to speak an absurd promise of abundance in the long years of barrenness…
If the first, I’m going to destroy not just the gifts, but myself also. Not just the enemy, but myself.
If the second, I’m asking questions that were never meant to be asked. I’ll be as silent as my wavering beliefs in a stormy sea of doubt and lies.
And, so, I cry, and I again find myself asking that years-old question, Who am I? I’m saying it with all the millennials, I’m singing it with Jean Valjean, and I’m spitting it out as if there’s actually an answer for it that will fit perfectly into my box where I’ve placed myself and let myself be placed by others—one equally divided into self-loathing and self-protection.
Both of which, I was never meant to be seeking.
Because this life carved out for me is not about who I am, and there are no boxes in this game of life. It’s not about the gifts, the callings, the talents, the places I stand or the characters I imagine myself to be. It’s not about the tears or the fears or the lies I let in. It’s not about any of this.
No, this life is about abundance, pure and real. And that’s exactly what He came to give.
In the midst of no-good sheep herders and thieves who call themselves shepherds, in the midst of the enemy who only seeks to kill, steal, and destroy, steps in a good shepherd. A good shepherd who brings life, life fuller than we ever dared dream. A good shepherd who promises to actually be a shepherd, to lead his sheep, to take them in and out, to keep them with the fold, and who will, ultimately, lay down His life for his sheep.
Abundance is not limited to time or space or things. It’s not constrained by our conceptions of what abundance should be or could be. It’s not owned or able to be exchanged for a better version. Abundance is the best. Abundance is wild, vast, and free.
Abundance comes when we lay down our hands. When we let go of the pillars and the chains and the incense we bring. When we silence ourselves and listen, really listen to what promises are being made. When we stop believing the lies that choke out the truth in the voices we’re hearing. When we stop asking questions and just trusting the answer that’s already been given—He’s the answer. This shepherd, this good, good shepherd is bringing abundance. Not in measure, but in fulness. Not in our response, but in His own good faith.
Abundance comes when we stop looking for it and instead choose to see it. When we quit working our way towards it, we realize it’s been here all along. He’s been here all along. Watching, waiting, working. Easing us into redemption that brings abundance in its wake—for glory’s sake, for His sake, not for ours.
Abundance is the tears on my face, even the fears in my heart, not knowing what lies ahead but straining towards it so desperately. Abundance is this fierce stubbornness that won’t let go of a dream because it is not a dream I ever, ever could’ve dreamed for myself. Abundance is the click of these keys under my fingertips—chasing these words and these feelings until they are caught in sticky truth that imprints upon my heart as yet another promise, another reason to take another step.
Abundance is each one of these little steps, these small obediences, these heartbeats that aren’t just making noise: they’re going somewhere. they’re going deeper. Deeper into abundance. Deeper into the truth that He has not forsaken me. He has not forsaken us.
And I’ll say it again—I’ll say it a thousand times until my heart and my peoples’ hearts believe it—
Abundance is coming.