The Constant One

It’s  been a long time since I’ve written, and so much has happened since then. I’ve begun my student teaching semester, and finished it. I’ve completed my undergraduate college career, and now have a degree in English and a certificate to teach - something I still have mixed feelings about. I’ve gotten engaged to the man who is the living manifestation of every dream I’ve ever held in my heart. Together, we’ve faced job confusion, stress, joy, and an ever-increasing busyness that fills our schedules. We’ve met students who we’ve grown to care deeply about, developed new positions in ministry, and begun putting our lives together in a deeper way. 

It’s been a lot - beautiful, ugly, and in between. 

What’s driven me to write again is the fact that in all of this, I’ve had a difficult time maintaining my intimacy with God. New milestones invite new difficulties, and in the midst of the tiredness, I’ve struggled to simply press onward in many ways. Somewhere between balancing ministry and personal relationship with God, it got hard to get alone with him simply for the sake of being alone with him. The earlier wake-up calls that dance with new waves of anxiety invited weak fears that made it difficult to continue committing to morning devotionals on a regular basis. Point blank, life is hard and I’ve had a hard time doing more than just being every day. 

I say all of that to say this: sometimes I think that we miss out on what God is walking us through simply because we’re so determined to hide from the world that we are actually walking through it. I think somewhere along the way, it became wrong to be transparent about what we’re really like, what we’re really experiencing. So we turn our faces away, smile big so that nobody doubts that we are strong and capable, and scaffold our insecurity up with pride instead of committing ourselves to the humble valley seasons. Our discouragement soars. 

But I don't want to pretend, or hide it. I’ve been reminded of a quiet truth in this time, and as much as my fears try to persuade me otherwise, my God still brings me back to it again and again. 

He is the Constant One, and our stumbling failures are not the end.

It’s in these stumbling times that he reminds me to not forget his benefits. To feel lifted as he leads me on stable ground. To remember to believe, to really believe, his great faithfulness. To find trust in his steadiness. I needed a steady love to lull me to response, and he knew that. Again and again he remains steadfast and gives me the courage to believe that I’ll find him tomorrow as the same person that I know him to be today. He gives me the grace to remember that by his sacrifice he’s provided a secure and finished hope, and the humility to exhale and believe that this was never, ever about me getting it right. 

He is my Constant One. The one I run from, and then hunger for. The one that I avoid too often, but am still gently, ceaselessly pursued by. The one who grows me through a quiet, uncertain confidence to believe that He really is, and will truly reward me for seeking Him. The one who will never, ever let me go. Who will never let me run away. He is too kind, and too generous. He gives me confidence that although I fail, I can keep reaching - that he’s endowed me with grace to try again. No matter how many times I doubt, or convince myself that my faith is nothing more than some mad tale that I’ve forced my mind to shape itself around, he helps me to find himself again. Always quiet, always a little uncertain - but always there. 

Constant One, I love you. So imperfectly, so uncertainly - but still you remain, somehow. Still you give me hope somewhere down in me that this really is a process; that one day the faith that is so hard to cling to will one day really be my eyes. Constant, constant, constant is your lullaby to me. 

Constant one,

endless is your love.

Like a river, can't be stopped,

you're faithful.

Constant one,

who is like you, God.

Your mercy is like the sun, 

always rising over us.