Deeper

I went surfing once...

Well I took a surfing lesson. In hindsight, I'm not sure I really wanted to surf, I just loved how cool it would sound to say I've been surfing (um, which it totally is btw)... but if we're completely honest, the idea of surfing was a little... a lot... terrifying. I could swim just enough to stay afloat, and I never have figured out how to hold my breath under water. I hadn't ever even been more than a couple feet into the ocean. And for real. Those waves are huge once you move away from the shore.

But regardless, I was in California and I was going to surf.



Before the surfer dude (!!!) allowed me to get into the ocean, I had to practice on land. First, a warm up and stretching so I didn't pull any muscles. Then, I learned the process of paddling and how to stand up on the surfboard, all on the comfort of the sandy beach.

I think a lot of Christians are content to stay on the safety of the beach. I was more than happy to stay there for years. It's that place where you take in all the head knowledge. I knew all the concepts of surfing, I knew what I had to do... I knew all the right things to say and do in life. I memorized scriptures, heck I even threw on some worship music once in awhile. But I wasn't willing to get my toes wet. I was never willing to put forth the effort, to deal with the hard icky stuff in order to experience the real joy. To feel the wind in my hair. To pursue what I knew and make it my reality.




The problem with the beach is the longer you stay there, the harder it is to leave. You get settled into that butt spot in the sand (y'all know what I'm talking about.) It's safe, it's familiar. It's dang comfy. The ocean is scary. I don't know what lurks beneath the waters. The wind is strong and the waves fierce. But there is so much more out on the horizon than here in the sand. True freedom is found in the deep. Among the waves, you feel God move. You see the seas part and experience the walking on water.

I'm in this season of my life where God keeps calling me deeper. I cling to the shore. As long as I can still see it, I'm safe. I'll paddle out a little farther, and when I'm comfortable with the depth, He urges me deeper. The waves grow the further out I go, but I'm falling deeper in love. I'm finding myself in a place where I've lost control, but I'm free. (This song, though. <3) It's scary, it's unknown. But it's the most beautiful thing I have ever known. The waves kickstart my heart, and it's learning to beat in time to His.

One day, I will learn to stand. I will have the courage to jump up on my surfboard and let Him move. I'll probably fall the first few times. Maybe the first few hundred. Because it's not safe. But He's good. And if God is good, I want to be in the deep with Him. I was never meant to live a life of complacency.

"In this life we were meant to dream big and always be reaching higher. Plateauing should never be an option." Alyssa Barlow

Drifting should never be an option.

Leave your fear and hesitations in the sand and step in. One day you'll find yourself looking deeper, forgetting that the shore is behind you. The waves crash over you and fear no longer has a hold.

In the deep, you are finally free.

I am Barrabas.

It's easy to look at the Easter story and condemn Pilate. He was a coward. It's easy to scoff and think we never would've let that happen. I never would have let them crucify Him.

When Jesus was brought before Pilate, Pilate found Him innocent. The chief priests and crowd insisted that Jesus needed to be charged. At that point Pilate learned that Jesus actually fell under Herod's jurisdiction so he sent Him to Herod. Herod must have not found any basis to charge Him either (I think Herod was a bit of a wuss to be honest), so he ridiculed Jesus and sent Him back. Again Jesus is before Pilate and after conversation with Jesus, Pilate goes out again to the Jews and says "I find no basis for a charge against him." In fact, he tells the crowd this multiple times. Pilate actually ends up trying to free Jesus (John 19:12.) However, the Jewish leaders keep pressuring Pilate to crucify Jesus and release Barabbas. So eventually Pilate gave into their demands.

Truth be told, I am Pilate.

I am a coward who doesn't always stand up for the one who I know is innocent. It's hard to stand up for God when everyone else is declaring Him guilty. And sometimes, I stay silent. Sometimes I sit back and leave the decision to the crowd. I give in to the pressure.

It's easy to look at the crowd and think you never would have been part of it. To think that, in that moment, you would've been the voice cutting through the crowd declaring "NO! Set Jesus free!"

Why do you think the people wanted Barabbas to be free? He was found guilty of murder and rebellion. Jesus was found innocent again and again. Personally, I think the crowd made the easy choice. How righteous must they have felt that they were so kind as to let a serial murderer go free? How much harder would it be to admit that Jesus was who He claimed to be? In fact, we choose Barabbas every day in our lives. We would rather gloat about freeing the prisoners than take to heart who Jesus really is and letting that change us. We don't want to change, not really. We don't want to live in the significance of that moment because it's hard, it takes work. It's uncomfortable. Most days it's easier to just pardon the guilty. Because we're the guilty.

Truth be told, I'm that crowd.

I forget who Jesus says He is. I look at the prisoners, willing to pardon their crimes, willing to give them a second chance. Then I look at God and think... well, He didn't make this happen. He didn't stop this from occurring. I forget He is good. I refuse to let who He is determine who I am. I choose Barrabas.

It's easy to look at the Barrabas and condemn him. He was this terrible criminal. Sometimes we scoff and think of how much better we are than him.

More than likely Barabbas' first name was Jesus. In Hebrew, Barabbas translates to "son of the father."

Okay, wait what? In Matthew 27:17, Pilate asks, “Which one do you want me to release to you: Jesus Barabbas, or Jesus who is called the Messiah?" So essentially Pilate is saying "Do you want me to release Jesus, son of the father or Jesus, son of the Father who is called the Messiah?"

How crazy is that? I think it's an important distinction. There is a complete parallel here. Not only with the names, but Barabbas was found guilty of rebellion. That is exactly what Jesus was found innocent of. Multiple times. Jesus is literally taking Barabbas' place, stride for stride.

Truth be told, I am Barrabas...

I am the one who was set free as Jesus hung on the cross. I was found guilty for the very things Jesus was found innocent of. I stood there and watched as Jesus was led off to die. I rejoiced in my freedom, while Jesus wept for my salvation.

I was bound and shackled. He let me go.

He let us go.

So why do we live like the victim? We are not the victims. We stopped being victims the day Jesus stood beside our guilty selves and the crowd chanted to crucify Him. We stopped being victims when Jesus hung on the cross and Barrabas walked away freely. We walked away freely.

So I refuse to live like I'm a victim. I am not a victim. I became victorious when Jesus set me free.

I am free.

Chosen

Broken is such a foreign thing to me. Strong was my normal growing up. I knew my problems were insignificant and quickly mastered the art of numbness. I learned to tune out my heart and listen to my head yelling, "retreat!" In the chaos around me I just needed a constant, and empty was as constant of a feeling as I could get. I knew that all I could do was be alright. 

Then I met someone who would change everything.

I had known Him my whole life, from a distance. Our paths crossed and we would hang out once in awhile among mutual friends. I never made the effort to talk to Him myself, or initiate any kind of contact.

But He sought me out. 

I ran. I retreated to every possible hiding spot I could find. He always found me, and I would run again.

I ran until I found myself in the middle of the desert. Weary with nowhere else to go. Exhausted and thirsty. I was so thirsty.

It was there that He had me to Himself. There, it was just me and Jesus. No distractions, no other voices competing for my attention. In the stillness, in the barren land. In a quiet, dry place, His voice was louder than the pain. His voice echoed in the openness. With no more barriers, no more places to hide, no more strength to run, He wooed me and drew me in. There, in the wilderness, He showed me what love is. And as the sun set with little reprieve from the heat, He taught me to dance under the stars. He brought me water from the rock.

His strong, tender voice, a voice that I had long learned to tune out, cut through the silence. 

“I choose you.” 

In the desert, you learn to hear His voice. The hours, days, even years when it feels like everything is falling apart. When you don’t think you could fall any further. In the quiet. Those are the moments He redeems. The moments in the trenches, when the gunshots are just an echo in your memory, are when you truly learn to hear. 

When you look back at those times, you’ll see that the desert was an invitation to know Him deeper. In the chaos of life, you once again long for those quiet, broken moments in the wilderness. Because it is there that you first felt seen. You felt completely known and hopelessly vulnerable. You had permission to just be. To cry and scream. To question. To let your mask shatter in the dirt. To fall completely apart, knowing He is there to bind up your wounds. 

And when you leave the wilderness, you’ve learned to recognize His still small voice above the world’s shouts. You know how to find stillness and rest in Him. You can walk with your head held high, knowing that the King of kings chose YOU. 

That is my heritage. He chose me and adopted me as His daughter. He looked straight at me, never looking through me, and declared me as His own. No longer do I have to hide.  

And that is your heritage. He’s chosen you. Let Him allure you in the wilderness. Fall at his feet in the desert and He will quench your thirst. No longer will you be called Deserted, or your land Desolate. But you will be called Hephzibah (my delight is in Her), for the LORD will take delight in you (Is 62:4).

He saw you in the orphanage, pointed at you and proclaimed, “You. You are mine. I choose you.” 

“I will be a Father to you, and you will be my sons and daughters” 2 Cor 6:18

Will you come to Him?

He’s waiting on you. And He’ll wait, as long as it takes.