How do you measure growth? When you’re young it’s easy: inches and shoe sizes and buying longer pants yet again. But what about when you’re older? How do you measure the growth of the mind? How do you trace the trail of the soul? We can walk about with our eyes the same color, our clothes the same style, our days the same schedule; and yet our insides completely changed.
And we forget. Familiarity breeds — ignorance of it ever being any different. When we forget to look back, we think we’ve always lived in this same plane, in this same place. Which means we lose a little. We lose those hard-fought victories, we lose the jumping in exultation, we lose the heart-wrenching convictions, the spirit-overwhelming love.
Growth is good. By looking back we remember where we came from.
This last year has seemed so very short, and yet as if it’s been forever. Here I am, blogging for a year with about 150 followers. That’s amazing and wonderful and — terrifying.
Terrifying that I’ve been doing this for so long, and yet am still on the first step.
Terrifying that I have wrestled and learned and grown, and yet have barely stuck my toe into this Christian life.
Terrifying that there are so many of you stopping to listen to what I say, just a girl still, who’s still desperately learning how to pray.
Life is terrifying and beautiful and confusing and joyous all at the same time, isn’t it?
And those of you who have walked this journey along with me know this blog is probably much the same way. I’ll come delighting in God’s paradoxes, but I’ll also sob out to Him raw and broken and vulnerable over my longings and singleness. I’ve wrestled with this balance of my logic and my feelings, convincing my heart to be reasonable and my brain to feel. There have been posts that have been deeply moving to me alone, and then ones which I had no passion for, yet He used in other’s lives. (Because after all, they were never my posts anyway.)
It’s funny how God works things sometimes. When I started this blog, a year ago, my mental thoughts were along the lines of, “People have poured so much into me, I want to teach others, to explain and encourage others in the ways of God!” Which is a fine goal to have. And it turns out, a fairly accurate one. I was just wrong on who precisely I was teaching.
Because I was the one who learned. Learned about God’s faithfulness, in my crazy ambitious plans of posting three times a week for several months. Learned about God’s continual abiding and unleavingness, in my months of sporadic-ness and procrastination. Learned to be overwhelmed by His great love, to cry for the brokenness of this world, and to see who I truly am without Him.
And yet even in that I have still sought to encourage you, because He has commanded us to. Teacher and student, unlearned and yet tutoring; yet another of those balances of being the entirety of each which is so common in this Christian life. (Which is a concept I think about often, and yet have never written about. Strange.)
So I want to say thank you. Thank you for being here, to those who have just arrived and just joined; and to my dear friends who have been here since the beginning, giving me good advice, reading and helping with drafts that were utterly hopeless before, growing and laughing over life, work, and random autocorrect mishaps with me. You know who you are, and you’re wonderful in every way. (And I would tag you, but this would be a very long post then. I think I need to do a fellow-bloggers appreciate post soon, yes?)
Thank you to the Rebelution, (and especially the wonderful Editor-in-Chief) who honestly started all this two years ago, when they accepted a stilted article from a girl who had barely ever written anything other than a school essay before, and who promptly rushed outside yelling for the rest of the family to come look.
Thank you to my parents, who have their lives continually interrupted with a “Hey, could you read over this real quick?” and have been up late into the night, reading and giving advice on every single post I’ve written, all 52 of them. You guys are the best, honestly, and I love you so much. Without you, and without my whole community of family and friends and church, I would not be who I am.
And of course, always and forever, thanks go to God. Because, even through all this growth, all this learning, all these new experiences and writing new emails for new experiences and new friends and new platforms for new communicating — I still haven’t gotten past my very first point, my very first post. And I don’t think I ever will. I don’t think I ever should.
Because God is enough.
God is enough for our wants. God is enough for our needs. He is enough for our longings, our desires, our deepest wishes which we want so much, yet can’t even put to words. He is enough.
And He always will be. He has been this year, through joys and sorrows, through adoptions and cancer diagnoses, through Olympics and terrorist attacks, through beauty and pain. And He will be next year.
Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, today, and forever. (Heb. 13:8)
Always and forever, He will be enough. So don’t forget. See where we’ve come from, His faithfulness throughout all. Then look forward, press on for the prize — and grow closer to Jesus.
Keep on running full-heartedly, with complete joyous abandon and faithful perseverance, after the only One who can show us the world rightly, after the One whose light alone can show us everything else, after the only One who satisfies.
Keep on running after Him.