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Blog.

WHEN YOU DON'T WANT MUD MIRACLES.

Kaylee Page

I think if God mashed mud on your face, told you to wait 5 minutes, drive home and wash it off and then you’d be healed, you wouldn’t do it! Doc said.

HUH? I thought.

You know. Like the blind man. Doc continued (he must have received the non-verbal I was sending with my tilted head and blank stare!) I think that if God told you to rub mud all over your eyes, to wait five minutes and then drive home and that when you washed it off you’d be healed; I think what you’d do is start driving home, get to your cul-de-sac and then instead of turning into your driveway you’d just continue on driving. BECAUSE YOU DON’T WANT TO BE HEALED. YOU DON’T WANT THE MIRACLE.

My heart stopped for a moment as this truth hit.

I had sorta already known this going into my time with Doc. I mean, sorta. But I had likened it to the analogy of the dude in the flood. You know, where the guy is in the flood and a boat goes by; offers to help, but the guy says No, no. God is gonna rescue me. And then a helicopter comes and the guy declines again. And then like a floaty or something goes by and the guy still won’t even take the slightest bit of help; adamant that God is just GOING TO SHOW UP. I get you, flood-dude. I really do. Because I don’t want my miracle either. I think part of it is that I really, to the core of my existence, hate mud. And so if my choice lies between mud and being healed; well tough call. Suuuuuuper tough call.

But Doc honored my heart. And he said:

BUT REALLY, WHY DON’T YOU WANT YOUR MIRACLE?

So I went on a really long walk. Because that’s where I often find words to my heart.

Step by step, I walked and with each step I drew out space to see my heart.

And here it is: I feel like I am on a rock in the very depths of the ocean.  It’s me and God. And we’re just wrestling.  I don’t get it. I don’t understand it. So I wrestle. And I keep wrestling. Every part of me aching, pulling, pushing, screaming, fighting. Every once in a while I’m too tired to wrestle, like literally my tears have run dry and my voice lost from yelling. I have no physical strength to fight the heart fight.  And so I lay flat on the rock, defeated and exhausted, with the calm breeze and sun upon my face. And as soon as I get enough energy, we wrestle again.

I feel so stuck. I feel so angry that God won’t change my truth.

WAIT.  Pause with me.  And say it again:

I feel so angry that God won’t change my truth.

As soon as I said it, IT ALL MADE SENSE.

I’ve been running from my truth.

I always thought that the dude in the flood waters was just stupid.

I had never thought that maybe he was just honest. That maybe there was more to his story.

Maybe he had a whole lot of family members with him and the floaty couldn’t hold all of them. He’d have to selfishly choose himself and only himself.

Maybe he had a daughter who was in a wheelchair and they had no ability to get her up on the boat.  To rescue himself was to abandon his daughter.

Maybe the helicopter only had enough fuel to get to one spot and that spot was not where his other family had safely found refuge. To take flight was to give up hope of reuniting with his family.

He wasn’t stupid.

He was honest.

Gawd. Maybe he was courageous even.

That he knew he’d lose it all if he lost his heart.

To take ANY of the options was to be dishonest with the reality of his heart. He wouldn’t go anywhere or choose any option that would take him away from his heart.

He was waiting. It was a curse, of his own sorts, right?

It seems almost cruel to give him so many options but that the desires of his heart didn’t match with any of those options. So he chose to sit. He chose to be honest.

And when I realized my very own truth. That the MIRACLE I was looking for was for God to change my reality.  Well then I realized I was looking for the wrong thing. I was running.  And that the most honest thing I could do was sit on my rock.

There’s not so much wrestling to do once you find your truth, your story and your heart.

Bible Jacob had been running from his story for years. He wrestled with the son of God until the the son of God said: what’s your name? Jacob responded with: JACOB. For years he had wanted his brother’s story. For years he had ran from his story, from his truth.

I’m slowly learning that all I need to be in this world is me. Me and my whole heart, my truth.

I don’t know what today or tomorrow brings. I don’t know what will happen in life that could change my current reality. BUT I’ve made a choice to be honest. To not wrestle with God to change it. But to hold my truth tightly. Because truth always sets us free, right? We know this, right? And you can find peace and contentment anywhere, even a rock in the middle of the ocean if you’ve got that.

So what is it that you’re running from?

Gawd. There’s so many desires to name. But what it is? What’s in your heart that you’re fighting? Wrestling? (like maybe you want a baby now, or maybe you want a loved one to come back, or maybe for a job to pull through or for a relationship to be reconciled and it's easy to run, to pray for God to change your heart because that would feel better than the ache you have. Gawd, it's so tempting to pretend the pain isn't there, right?)

Don’t run from it. Please.

Rather, sit with it.

It’s not a punishment. I promise. It took me a whole world of really dark nights where I didn’t know if I had enough in me to make it to realize that the wrestling was simply this: An invitation.

An invitation to be honest about the reality of my heart.

We'll save those mud miracles for a rainy day!

Today is a day to be still and know our hearts and what it is our hearts actually want. Because we are free. And God wants us to experience that freedom. God knew I didn't actually want my mud miracle. He saw, honored and validated my heart; far and long before I could. He's pretty tricky like that!