Fears and Imagination.

I have a lot of fear, I am learning. 

Donald Miller says that in order to have a good story, you need fear. I hope he's right.

Amid all the excitement of my life lately, I find myself here again. Tonight I was sitting by the lake. crying. 

There is this fear in me that God is beautiful. That God dances with me on backroads. That God holds me when I want more than anything to be anywhere but home. That God sings me to sleep every night. 

I fear that this God that holds me, that dances with me and that sings to me is going to come to Chicago. He's going to be with me in the morning my first day of class. I fear, however, that he's going to be slammed onto a cold, metal table and disected. That the lover of my soul is going to be torn apart until all I have is tattered Jesus and a degree.

I fear that I've let this thought from the enemy hold my hand.

I feel so disconnected from people right now. I feel like there is no one to talk to. I haven't spoken to anyone on a deep level in weeks. I ache for that intimacy, yet I pull away to shield myself from the scary city of Chicago. To shield myself from home-sickness.

    Needless to say, God is pulling me in a little closer as I fall asleep tonight. I will at last rest in God knowing that He gave Bethany Dillon the words to the song, 'Imagination' for a reason. Every night I listen to it to fall asleep. So, may you be blessed as I try to breathe it in. 

Thanks for reading my mind. 

I need to be reminded of who I was

When I took my first steps out the door

All I said now follows me around

I'm reminded I'm not like that anymore

I uprooted and miles behind me

Are the faces and the home I love

You've brought to my attention

I'm slowly changing and becoming

What I wanted to stop

Isn't that just like a finite mind?

Setting out with such righteous indignation

But now I'm at your feet

Could you look at me with some imagination

The bush before me, I slip my sandals off

I only stopped to look

In the depths of the sea, in the midst of a great storm

I run, I run from you

Isn't that just like a finite mind?

Setting out with such righteous indignation

But now I'm at your feet

Could you look at me with some imagination

So remind me why you woke me up

And why you wake me every morn

The staff in my hand

Held in by your love

Just stay close, stay close

Because I know my own mind

I set out with righteous indignation

But when I'm at your feet

Please look at me with some imagination

With some imagination