...A Brief Synopsis Of My Life So Far...

Okay. So this is my problem. I worry too much and I’m trying to control too much. I also fear rejection. I don’t want to admit to feeling anything but numb because I’m afraid that if I do I’ll be scrutinized for it. I’m indecisive. Before I had made up my mind that I was just easy going and that it’s not a bad thing. But the truth is I avoid making decisions because I don’t want to be told that I’m responsible for making a major mistake. So I just avoid making major decisions. I worry and fret about all the tiny details until the moment is past and they don’t matter any more.

With the big things I’m even more terrified. I’m terrified because I find that I can’t help but feel something. I can’t help but desire missions. And that frightens me. It scares me to death because I want it, I want it so badly and I asked God for it. Have I told you that? I asked God for it. Actually I was brass enough to ask God if he would allow me to be a martyr. I was young. 8 years old, if that. And it was a really emotionally charged moment. I was sobbing because I’d thought about it long and hard, I’d prayed about it and I found that I wanted it; more than anything else I wanted it. So I asked God. First I asked if I could do it? Could I give my life for God, would I be able to do that? And he answered me, he would be there to help me. And I told him that, seeing as he’d be there to help me, I wanted it. Can I have this God? Can I have this? Then I sobbed harder and begged him to favour me enough to bless me with the opportunity to serve him as a missionary. And through my sobs I heard him. Yes. One word and it stole my breath away. I stopped sobbing immediately and realized that he’d granted me my request, then the enormity of God hit me, the huge reality of him and I cried some more.

I believed him. 100% I believed him. And ever since then I’ve known. I’ve just always known that it’s what I was destined to do… I’ve tried to escape it, but I can’t. It’s who I am. It’s in my DNA. It’s me. The thing is as soon as this encounter was over, with the knowledge of what had happened fresh in my mind, I got attacked from every angle. I would say that I wanted to be a missionary and felt nothing but scrutiny for it. It seemed to come from everywhere, but the biggest influence was my parents. I got my eyes off of God and the wonderful truth, that he’d told me I could have it, and onto myself.

It was like before I was looking into a mirror and God was standing beside me with his arm around my shoulder beaming and all I could see was how beautiful he made me. Then suddenly there was someone else standing next to me in the mirror and they weren’t holding me, they were pointing fingers and revealing every imperfection in such a compelling way that I could not ignore them. They could not push God out of the picture but they didn’t have to, because I did it. Me, with my eyes off of God, just naturally distanced myself from him. I stepped away, I didn’t shove him back, I just stepped out of his embrace. I stood alone and the distance I had placed between us added to the horror of the image. Because suddenly I seen very clearly what God would require in contrast to who I was. And I took it onto myself to become the sort of person who could stand beside God and rest her head comfortably on his chest. Without realizing that’s who I was.

....................END PART ONE....................

Cole.