cardboard-cloud-gods and wispy-floating-fears.

I start work at camp for the summer in about a week. While I've worked at the same camp for the past four summers, this will be my first year working as the sole assistant manager. My job will probably consist of some weird mix of administrative office work and outdoor maintenance work. And while I'm definitely excited to be back in my second home, nestled among towering pines and a quiet quiet lake, I'm also pretty nervous.

With more power comes more responsibility (didn't Spiderman say that?). In my opinion, with more power also comes more FEAR.

I've been nervous about different aspects of each summer for the past four years, and every single time, God has worked something beautiful and glorious and Light-filled out of it. Whether it's been subtle embers-like change or fiery and explosive change, God has continued to show up and be present and be Love in the midst of my tangled-up-fears and insecurities.

At the same time, it's exactly because God has always pulled through that I'm tempted to forget about this summer. To effectively 'surrender' it up to God by letting go, not thinking about it and reassuring myself that it will be good no matter what because GOD IS GOOD.

Maybe if I scream it loud enough, I'll be able to hear it.

Back and forth, back and forth, a dance I've learned to do with God, jumping between fretting over my fears and forgetting them (i.e. pretending I've suddenly overcome them). There's never any in-between or balanced middle ground - just me shifting precariously from one end of the spectrum to another.

I've been focusing a lot on the name Emmanuel recently. This idea of God with us. Whenever I hear that, I get a picture of God walking with us, holding our hands and taking real small steps as we stumble along and do our best to move forward. It's like he can choose to bolt ahead and leave us in the dust whenever he wants, but chooses to slow down out of the great love he has for us.

And it's striking to me because God isn't some distant deity up above in the sky. Whenever I think about surrendering my fears to God and slipping into my state of ignorant bliss, I have this image in my head of relinquishing my fears upwards, like they float up to the sky and disappear somewhere among the clouds where God can search them and sort them out later.

But according to Emmanuel, God is HERE, he's right now and right next to us, walking with us on this journey. 

So I'm trying something new this summer. I refuse to let my fears control me, to let them seep in with their darkness and fill me with self-doubt and anger. At the same time, I refuse to forget they exist, to simply surrender them up to the sky and pretend like I'm okay because God works everything together for my good. I refuse to keep twisting that poor verse to fit my selfish desires for comfort and safety.

Here I am, I can see my fears and the nerves I have for the added responsibility and leadership that will come with this summer. They're right here in front of my face and begging me to open up. I'm pouring them out and acknowledging they exist, shining light on every crack and crevice within them. My fears seem to lose so much power when I recognize them, when I can see them with all their complexities and keep on looking.

Here I am walking with God, side-by-side, holding onto his hand that Never Lets Go. I'm standing in his grace and inching forward with painful steps, ones grounded in real trust and vulnerability, not cardboard-cloud-gods and wispy-floating-fears.

And those fears may take a while to go away, they may cling to me like glue for the entire summer, but it's easier to fight against them when I actually know what I'm fighting against. Because if God is right here, if he really is walking with me and spurring my footsteps on with his power and might, then I can cling to him like the fears cling to my skin.

I know that God will work this summer together for my good. I know that something beautiful will come out of it, that things will never be as nerve-wracking as I make them out to be, and that I'll probably over-exaggerate every single fear I have.

But I'm done using that as an excuse to close my eyes, plug my ears and pretend like God's the only one walking down this path. I'm walking forward in Truth, not ignorance. I'm surrendering my fears to learn to Trust, not forget. To me, that sounds like an awfully better way to walk in Love, and to walk in Peace.