The Art of Selling Out

My whole life, I’ve never had the guts to give the last effort. To take the last leap of faith that could mean crushing failure or riveting success. To completely go for something with everything I’ve got.

I think I have the same sixth sense that animals have when something significant is going to happen (ie. typhoon). However, unlike a cat or a dog, I don’t just run to higher ground; I go catatonic (I mean that I hibernate in my room and watch an unhealthy amount of Grey’s Anatomy…). A lot of big things have happened recently (I got placed as a Young Life leader at Oscar Smith High School, I’m starting classes at Regent, etc.) and I’m coming to a point in my life where faith isn’t just an unassuming object in my life anymore. I’m learning that the closer I walk towards Jesus, the more critically necessary He becomes.  I am learning the art of selling out.

Jesus talks about this a lot in scripture. Before great battle, what king hasn’t sat down to deliberate the 20,000? [Luke 14:31-33] And once we know some of the cost of following Jesus, we must, in good conscious, consider if we are willing to give it all: not whether we can give it all, but whether we’re willing to. For what salt lacking saltiness is of any use for the soil or the manure pile? [Luke 14:34-35] But the idea of giving it all, of really following Jesus, through the dark and the light, is scary.

One of my favorite worship songs is “Oceans(Where Feet May Fail)” by Hillsong United. The lyrics talk about calling on Jesus’ name when we are lead to waters deeper than we ever imagined: where our feet may fail, but His grace abounds. I imagine the storm that night, on the Sea of Galilee, after Jesus fed the 5,000. When Jesus walked to His disciples on the water. When they first worshipped Him as the Son of God. Imagine what it was like to see Jesus, a pillar of tranquility amidst the raging wind and the violent waves. Imagine what it was like for Peter (of little faith!) to get called out of the boat and, for a moment, conquer these same waters. Imagine what it could be like for us, to actually trust Jesus and walk with Him on the water: not just for a shaky moment, but an eternal lifetime.  “…to reach all the riches of full assurance of understanding and the knowledge of God’s mystery, which is Christ, in whom are hidden all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge.” [Colossians 2:2-3] At first, this notion frightens me. I don’t have the guts. I could never walk on water. I am not good enough or brave enough or qualified enough to be a part of His great, redemptive Plan. But this is the beautiful part, the most beautiful part of any truth to ever be true. Since Jesus nailed our iniquitous debts to the cross [Colossians 2:14], we abide in Him, and He in us[1 John 4:13].  All we have to do is place our trust in the Son of Man. Follow Him with all we’ve got. Because we cannot do it. But Jesus can.

What I am listening to:

"Lake Yarina" -Josh Garrels

"Where Is My Mind" -Trample By Turtles(cover)

"How We Breathe" -Pinback

"Zebra" -John Butler Trio

"She's a Bad Mama Jama" -Carl Carlton

"Big Jet Plane(acoustic)" -Angus and Julia Stone

"You call me out upon the waters,
The great unknown where feet may fail,
And there I find You in the mystery,
In oceans deep,
My faith will stand"

verse from "Oceans(Where Feet May Fail)

"And Peter answered Him, 'Lord, if it you, command me to come to you on the water.' He said, 'Come.' So Peter got out of the boat and walked on the water and came to Jesus. But when He saw the wind, he was afraid, and beginning to sink he cried out, 'Lord, save me.' Jesus immediately reached out His hand and took hold of him, saying to him, 'O you of little faith, why did you doubt?' And when they got into the boat, the wind ceased. And those in the boat worshiped Him, saying, 'Truly you are the Son of God.'" Matthew 14:28-33

"17. Have a friend"

“17. Have a friend.”

I wrote this in a journal I kept in 2011. It belonged to a somewhat cliché list of “100 Things To Do Before I Die.”

Observing myself in retrospect, I slip into a sinking hollowness. I remember exactly how I felt when I wrote that. My mom had recently moved out, my dad’s girlfriend had since moved in with her three kids, my two brothers were away at college, and I didn’t seem to fit into any equation.

At school, I had “friends”—people I sometimes talked to in class, but my painfully shy nature made human interactions physically hard for me (ask my close friends, now, this awkward, anti-social side can still blindside me at gatherings of people I don’t know well.) Think Laura Wingfield from The Glass Menagerie. If I arrived to school early, I went to my class and sat for 20 minutes alone because even the teachers were more popular than me. After school, I waited to be picked up, alone, hoping that nobody looked at me for more than 3 seconds. I went home and read my text books. I’d go to soccer practice or work out, then listened to Andrew Bird or Middle Brother for hours while looking at a map of the world, planning impossible adventures I knew my nature would never allow. No one ever really acknowledged me for more than a courteous, forced moment.

I would like to take these moments of yours, while reading this, however, not to discuss the unfortunate propensities of my younger self. Though I never attracted much in terms of relationships (my idle face defaults to a repelling scowl which probably never helped,) I was, in fact, being fervently pursued. Chased after.

One day, I was putting on my shin guards before a high school soccer game. While I was told to be “getting in the zone” for the day’s match, I couldn’t think of anything other than being home alone that weekend. For most teenagers, this would be an axiom, but for me, this meant that the guaranteed interactions I had with the people in my house would not happen and I probably wouldn’t speak a single word for two days. I was mindlessly tying and untying my cleats when an older girl on the team sat down next to me. I was immediately uncomfortable; this wasn’t supposed to happen. I couldn’t figure out why someone was purposefully sitting next to me, let alone one of the most well-liked seniors at my school. She asked me if I was okay. People didn’t usually say more than ‘hey’ to me, much less notice that something was wrong. Something even crazier happened. She asked if I wanted to hang out that weekend. Up until this point of my high school career, I could still count the number of times I had hung out with people on two hands. “Uh, sure.”

An unassuming kindness, this could have been cast off into diminutive obscurity, but it was a rallying of the Lord’s lifelong pursuit for my heart. It was more than just a popular older girl on the soccer team sitting next to me; it was Jesus, Himself, sitting next to me. He wasn’t going to let me fade into the easiness of life-long isolation and self-pity. This was only the first of a series of divine encounters.

This tiny expansion of the Kingdom of Goodness began presenting the Solution to my heart’s biggest quandary. A place where I am always wanted, where I am always listened to, where I am always loved. I soon discovered that I had much more than a friend in Jesus. There was a moment, looking into the sky and hearing the Lord in my mind’s voice, that I will never forget. He was calling me somewhere. “Welcome Home.”

*disclaimer: There are supremely more difficult things than loneliness and a broken family. I don’t mean to garner any sympathy; it’s just the type of brokenness the Lord used to draw me to Himself.

"But now in Christ Jesus you who once were far away have been brought near through the blood of Christ." Ephesians 2:13

What I Am Listening To:

"Going Home" -Josh Garrels

"Hazelton" -Bon Iver

"Take Me Home" -North of the New

"Missed the Boat" -Modest Mouse

"King of Spain" -The Tallest Man On Earth

"Right Me Up" -State Radio