Well, when I last wrote here I thought I would be back in Tacoma by Monday afternoon. I was going to get a lot of things done, go to class on Tuesday, and generally be very productive. That was the plan, at least.
I literally can only remember seeing the time 9:40 p.m. on my train ticket. Emily and a couple of guys from the YWAM base were driving me to the train station, and as we were driving up to it we saw a train go by. "Good thing that's not my train, huh?" I laughed. They parked and took me inside, I said my goodbyes, and they left the station. I go to the ticket counter and ask to check in my massive suitcase.
"For what train? The one tonight?" says the older woman behind the desk.
"Uh, yeah. Tonight's train."
"That train left."
The shock hasn't quite hit yet. She must be joking. "When did it leave?"
"On time," she says, exasperation starting to edge her voice.
Although what has happened hasn't quite sunk in yet, I can feel panic start to grasp at me. She had to be wrong, but if she wasn't . . .
I ran out the door, just barely catching Emily and the guys before they drove down the street (totally God . . . if I didn't catch them . . . let's just say that would not have been pleasant). I wave them down and yell "I missed my train!" As they jump out and ask question while coming back to the station, I run back to the ticket counter and talk to the woman. Within a few minutes I realize that she was, in fact, correct: I had missed my train.
The rational response to this would have been to simply laugh and get a new ticket, perhaps rejoice at the fact that I have an extra day of vacation. But rationality was way beyond me by now. For some reason which I couldn't place and didn't want to place, I was devastated. Fear and despair came over me, as if my worst nightmare had come true (which, was in fact, partially true). I broke down, crying while weakly trying to keep myself for snapping at those around me. I was fine; within a half hour I had a ticket for the next day. So why was I taking it so badly?
That night Emily and Jason both spent some time trying to remind me of some truth. God had a purpose. It was not the end of the world. There must be a reason why I had missed the train. I didn't want to hear any of it, but I knew they were right. So the next morning I spent arguing with God over these very things. (No, I don't really recommend arguing with God. He usually wins, and even if you win, you still lose in the end.) In that morning, I came to the point where I finally acknowledged some things to Him.
First of all, I need to rest. I have a habit of making myself extremely busy. I can do everything, and by myself. At least, that's what I say to myself. I end up exhausting myself, but I still don't slow down and rest in God.
Resting and resting in God are two very different things. The one is "relaxing" in my own flesh, all the while planning on my next move to be a good, productive college student. The other is laying everything aside and saying, "God, I can't do this on my own. And that's okay with me. Will You handle it all? Will You take care of it as I just sit here at Your feet and enjoy Your presence and Your truth?" Resting may seem to be peaceful, but it doesn't come anywhere near the peace that comes from resting in God.
Secondly, I need to be honest with God. He sees my heart, why must I hide it? I think that the hard spots, the areas I don't want to see, aren't there if they are hidden. God can't expose them if they aren't there, and exposure hurts. Busyness is definitely linked to this. It provides the cover for my heart. Yet this isn't what I need. God already sees my heart, but He wants to see it with me. He wants the honor of being shown my heart, so that He might begin to heal it. It's not easy, and He knows how painful it is. But He knows it's what is best for me. The Lord loves me, and that most definitely includes my heart.
Thirdly, I am not in control. I might think I am, I might want to be, but ultimately I cannot control everything. When I try to control my own life, it messes things up and I end up miserable. God is much better at handling it.
So, needless to say, I wasn't meant to take the Sunday night train. Pride had to be addressed, and that was much more important than making it to class and work. And for once I needed to rest in God. Yes, God knew what He was doing.
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