Dangerous Surrender Chapter 1

Kay Warren begins her book with these two quotes:

"Much is required from those to whom much is given." Luke 12:48

"If through a broken heart God can bring His purposes to pass in the world, then thank Him for breaking your heart." Oswald Chambers, My Utmost For His Highest, November 1

I have never seen these two ideas tied together, but they perfectly describe how I see the world. The rest of her chapter is honest and penetrating, but I keep coming back to how she chose to start it.

I have never been one to peek through the cracks. My life feels very different from Kay Warren's in that way. We both share strong faith, and care for our families, but otherwise the similarities quickly disappear. I think I was born with a broken, surrendered heart. I can't remember a time when I didn't feel the weight of the world and its pain on my shoulders. My sense of justice didn't help much. I still remember what it felt like to punch a bully in the stomach, and then to hand back the ball he had taken from younger girls. I was in first or second grade. Getting involved and intervening in the world around me are as natural to me as the air I breathe. Leaving things to others is just not part of my DNA. At 20, I began volunteering in a 24-hour sexual assault program. Pain, evil, despair, inequality, healing, and the cycle of violence became issues I wrestled with daily. I felt good at helping people through trauma and grief, and nothing seemed as meaningful, so I made it my life's work. But at times, this work broke me. That's the only way I can describe it. People call it burnout or secondary trauma, or vicarious trauma, but essentially they just mean that your heart can only handle so much. My heart broke open and I worked for 8 years to patch it up when the holes became large enough to impact my daily life. To step into someone's life either at a crisis point of fresh, new, all-encompassing pain and grief, or to walk alongside someone over time with a lifetime of familiar, limiting pain and despair takes guts and compassion that need to come from a deep place.

I intentionally began seeking God's direction for my path at 8 years old, and that has always included being ready to go in where needed. If anything, my journey seems a bit opposite of Kay's. I understand feeling ordinary, and yet I have also always felt different. Like I never quite fit in anywhere. I have to hold my faith tightly in the field of social work, yet my radical beliefs to take Jesus' teachings on how to treat the poor and oppressed at face value, keep me on the edge of most American church communities. I don't really fit in most places. Fortunately for me, God was growing Chris to have the same heart and the same views on faith and the world. So I never feel completely alone.

I don't have one single defining moment like Kay's magazine article. I wish I had something to point to and say, "this is when I knew God's call on my life". For me it is more of a generic, total life call. I feel like I've been ready for years to bolt out of the starting gate. Classic examples: my senior year of high school I went on my first mission trip. I would still be there in a small village outside of Mexicali, Mexico if the allure of high school graduation and the intent of my youth pastor to bring everyone back hadn't intervened. I have never really felt at home in America since, and I would choose to live almost anywhere else if I felt like I was being asked to. Yet here I am in small town America trying to raise my kids in a culture that I mostly don't believe in. Here's another one: Chis and I first applied to adopt from foster care almost 7 years ago. Here we are, many years later, older and wiser, but still waiting for the child we feel is out there. Many people view us as nuts, I'm sure. Chris and I both worked for years in very intense, draining environments. Then what do we do when we leave work? Go pick up various foster kids and try to have only a minimally chaotic evening at home. The years have taken their toll, and we are tired. Not to mention, Chris will be totally grey soon :). But I guess that is my point. We have decided that every area of our lives will be intentional. We are sensitive to changing directions, but also pray for the guts to stick things out when they get rough.

As I'm reading through Dangerous Surrender, I'm realizing that I'm hoping to find some specific directions to turn my heart to. I feel like I've been preparing for years. I'm just not sure what I'm preparing for. I don't necessarily struggle with God over letting go of myself and my desires, like I know many do. My struggle is more around feeling that my restlessness is for a reason, and that I'm ready to go, if only I knew where I was supposed to go! God works to slow me down, gently telling me the last thing I want to hear, "You aren't quite ready. In My time, child you will find your place." I am like a 3 year-old who watches her older siblings do what she feels born to do. "I'm ready NOW!" But I am less demanding and intense after going to Ethiopia. Maybe I grew from the 3 year-old to an 18 year-old. Now I am quietly, seriously asking, "Now?" And I wait for my Father's answer...

I'd love to hear other people's thoughts on this chapter, since mine (as usual) are a bit on the edge of what I think she intended.

What is your struggle?
Is it surrendering yourself?
Or with feeling worthy and adequate for the call you feel?
Or are you feeling ready, but still waiting for your next step?