On the Prayer Room

I find myself back in Starbucks, for the second day in a row. Don’t worry, though: I’m not falling into a rut. I am most definitely in Fremont today, burning my tongue on a vanilla latte instead of my typical chai. I set myself up to fail in positions like this. I have the ultimate seat beside the window, a perfect view of everyone walking past. While this would be ideal if I had the chance to just sit and write for hours, I really need to be productive. So, of course I’m writing this.
Walking along the canal is one of the most calming activities in my life. I think it’s because there is no definite ending. If I’m just a little freaked, or stressed, or honestly just want to get some air, I can walk to one of the first benches, come all the way to the bridge before turning back, or even just continue on to Gasworks if it’s that bad of a day. Having the water (and accompanying ducks) close by is comforting.
People from SPU keep walking past. It makes me smile. I love my school.
Group last night… Oh man. Holly and I snuck in late after the one acts. We were in time for about a trillion songs, though, and communion. I love group. It is such a time of encouragement, and just fellowship with other students. Anything else that ever goes on in Upper Gwinn just seems so structured; it’s reminiscent of previewers, registration, and move-in weekend. But group is just such a time of relaxation and praise. So good.
But last night… I had one of those moments. One of the moments of ‘everything you believe is a lie.’ Just one of those moments of doubt. It frustrates me endlessly. I am so ready to be crazy for Jesus and love Him with my whole heart, and adore the world and every single person accordingly. But I hit these patches of ice anytime I’m at any sort of church/worship service lately. This, “You’re crazy for believing this. None of this is important. Why don’t you just move on, actually plan something out for your life, and do something productive?” And then I cry.
I was in the prayer room a lot last night, first to cry and try to breathe without eighteen thousand people crowding around on all sides (moments of peace are sometimes lacking in dorm life), and then to run lines. As I was sitting on the floor or pacing back and forth in this tiny room, though, my eyes kept running over and over the scribbled chalk messages on the walls. Words of who God is, and how He is powerful, loving, and ever faithful.
I know that God is good, that God is joy, that God is love. He is my fulfillment. And I just need to trust. I know He’ll hold me.
(A small note: love can gloriously be both a noun and a verb)
"Love the Lord, all you saints! The Lord preserves the faithful but abundantly repays the one who acts in pride. Be strong, and let your heart take courage, all you who wait for the Lord!"
-Pslam 31:23-24