I recently had the privilege of sharing part of my testimony at our church’s Good Friday service. If you know me, this was way out of my comfort zone! But that is all part of the testimony of God’s work in my life. I decided to share what I wrote/shared on here, as well, in case it encourages anyone else. (The service had testimonies that corresponded to the seven last words of Jesus. I was assigned “I thirst”.)
I thirst.
I’m going to start off by reading an excerpt from a blog post I wrote in August of 2021. I often use my blog to try to put into words things that I’m learning or wrestle with the things I’m thinking about, so I feel like this post is a good starting point for what I want to talk about tonight.
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The fear is a mountain, a living mountain with arms that reach out to me.
I know that the mountain can shrink over time. But it’s not the mountain that goes anywhere. It’s a mountain. It doesn’t move. It doesn’t get smaller.
It’s just a matter of whether I stay in its shadow or not.
It’s a matter of whether I look at it or not.
It’s a matter of whether I give it space in my thoughts or not.
It’s a matter of me saying “God is good.” And then realizing if I really believe that, then fear can have no room in my heart.
It’s a matter of me saying “Do I trust God or not?”
If the answer is yes, then I can’t even look at that mountain. I can’t even glance that way. My only response is to stare into the face of Jesus and never look away.
The fear mountain is still there. It is a mountain of fear. A scary mountain with rampaging arms and gnashing teeth.
But it’s getting easier not to look at it.
I am walking and the mountain that used to loom above me, completely obstructing my path, seems smaller now.
It’s walking with Jesus in the helpless moments that gave me the way around it, and I am slowly making my way towards him, away from the mountain. The mountain never shrinks, it’s just easier not to look at it all the time because I have taken steps away from it.
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This journey from fear towards freedom started a few years earlier when I was talking to our pastor about possibly leading a small group. I told him no, I’m not a group person, I don’t feel comfortable speaking up in groups, I prefer one-on-one. I remember the moment very clearly, because he sat back in his chair and sort of pointed at me and said “You can be set free of that.” I think it took me by surprise and I may have even been a bit insulted! I was thinking this is just who I am! I don’t need to be set free of anything! I’m fine, I just don’t like groups, it’s OK to prefer one-on-one!
But I think he must have heard the fear in me that day and I just couldn’t see it. I didn’t even know how trapped in fear and old wounds I was and that God was offering me something better.
But since that day, I have heard God’s invitation with that sentence so many times.
Fear of speaking in groups? “You can be set free of that.”
Self-loathing and insecurities? “You can be set free of that.”
Anxiety over health problems? “You can be set free of that.
Fear for your children and their future? “You can be set free of that.”
Fear of speaking in front of people? “You can be set free of that.” (That one is a work in progress! They all are actually.)
My eyes have slowly and gently been opened to all the ways that I was trapped, and even paralyzed, with fear and I didn’t even know it.
I wish I could say how it works. I think about that a lot. When I hear that invitation to freedom from God, how does it work then to actually make it happen? And I really don’t know. All I know is that I have to say “OK, I want the freedom that you’re offering” and then it happens, God takes care of the rest. Sometimes it’s like I have to cling to that “OK”, but clinging to an OK to God is still way better than being trapped in my wounding and fear.
When Jesus was on the cross and said “I thirst”, he was offered only sour wine. When I echo the Psalmist and say “My soul thirsts for you, my body longs for you, in a dry and weary land where there is no water” he offers me all of himself. He died for me so my thirst would be quenched and that I would be set free.
My church on Easter morning
He was pierced for [my] transgressions,
he was crushed for [my] iniquity;
the punishment that brought me peace was on him,
and by his wounds [I am] healed.
The journey away from fear is the long game and I am not totally out of its grasp, probably in ways I still don’t even know about it yet. But I do know that I am a better friend, wife, and mother now that I’ve been set free of so many things and I know that I want to keep being set free for the rest of my life.
I thirst.