I found my life when I laid it down

 

I’ve been humming Hillsong’s “Touch the Sky” non-stop for the past few days and it’s been continually on repeat on my Spotify. It’s a beautiful song, but it only grabbed my heart when I first heard that second line clearly from the radio – “I found my life when I laid it down.”

I know what this means now.

I found my life when I laid it down.

I reached a point in my life where I had been “saved” for a few years, but I clearly didn’t know what that meant. I was still living for myself. I was chasing empty pursuits, gasping for air, drinking from wells that dried up before I was satisfied.

Then one day, I was delivered from ambition.

Ambition.

It sounds like a good word. It can even be good.

They called me ambitious, determined, motivated.

They called me “driven.”

But I was driven to death.

 

It was always a temporary high.

Relying on my own strength, my own smarts, my own ability to climb higher and higher.

The highs were addictive, but the lows were absolutely crushing.

Those heights only seem dazzling when you’re gaining momentum on the ascent.

They appear within reach.

They look dazzling. Glittering. Fulfilling.

But one of two thing would always happen –

– I’d fall short. Tumbling down the mountain, the glitter did little more than glitter ever does – make a mess and end up sticking in all the wrong places.

– Or I’d actually reach the height. And it inevitably fell short of expectation. It was never enough. It was never as spectacular, as magnificent, or as satisfying as imagined. The glitter wore off as easily as glitter always does – scrapped off by the harsh edge of reality.

 

I bought the world and sold my heart.

I was willing to give up chunks of myself, piece by piece, to become the kind of person I thought had it all.

After feeding me lies of inferiority and insecurity, the world sold me dreams of intelligence and calloused cleverness.

I was willing to trade every part of me that didn’t fit the mold I was being peddled.

I discarded kindness, creativity, and emotion.

I willingly bartered my relationships and tender heart for a tough skin and a sharp tongue.

I slowly gave away my freedom for its illusion.

I was willing to spend recklessly for what I was told I wanted.

And yet the weights were never balanced.

And then I learned what it truly meant that He traded heaven for me.

With indescribable, undeserved mercy He bought me back.

After years of trading myself away at far too high a cost, He paid it all.

 

I really did find my life when I laid it down.

When I gave up control of my own life, when I ceased the endless transactions, when I finally surrendered to the one that could afford to buy me back, I found my life.

I recently began my new internship with the Student Ministries of my home church.  I’ve only been at my new internship for a week now, but I’m already reveling in how this adventure is representative of that truth.

I found my life.

I found myself when I stopped searching for myself, and instead searched for my Creator.

When I am steadfast in my desire to know Him, I find that I know myself better.

I am so different now.

I’m discovering new passions daily.

I’m living Life more alive than I’ve ever been.

I’m reveling in how far He’s brought me. In how much He’s changed me. In how much better His plan is than mine.

I am freer than I ever was when I was desperately vying for control.

I’m more myself than I ever was when I was picking and choosing the parts I wanted to keep and those I wanted to give away.

Instead, I gave Him everything.

I laid my life down when I gave it all to Him, and He set me free to find it.

This week has been so short, but it’s been so full of emotion.

Bursting with the feeling that I’m finally where I’m supposed to be.

Experiencing His love that flows over into tears of joy.

Waking up thrilled to discover what I’ll learn and going to bed exhausted in the best way possible.

Learning what living Life fully truly means.

On one hand, I know that this feeling will fade, and that getting hyped up by events and people and things is short-term joy. But on the other hand, I don’t think that’s what this is. These particular events will end, these people may not always be close by, and these things will rust and fade. But the joy of being where He has planned for me to be, doing the work He’s given me to do, and becoming more like Him – that is unfading.