If you are reading this blog, it is either because you stumbled upon it or more likely because I have invited you to stay updated about my trip to Vienna, Austria this summer. In either case, welcome! You might be wondering about my blog title, "Come, follow me." The meaning of this phrase seems obvious - come (a call to the reader) and follow me (Brie) throughout my time before, during, and after Vienna. While I am inviting you to share in this experience with me, I would like to explore another meaning of this phrase that is near and dear to my heart.
During my undergraduate years at UW-Madison there was a women's conference at a local church. The main speaker presented the following idea to all of the participants: Jesus says to each one of us, "Come, follow me." That's it. He doesn't give you a detailed step-by-step plan ahead of time including what that entails, specifics of where you'll go, and what you'll do when you get there. There are no four-year plans. There are no maps, only a compass. Jesus asks us to follow him based on who he is and his love for us. This is only typical and mundane sounding when you don't step out in faith and experience God’s goodness for yourself.
I liken such an experience with my first "legitimate" visit to Six Flags Great America. Before my "legitimate" trip I had visited Six Flags a few times with my Girl Scout troop (I figure this is why I am so addicted to thin mints today) and school. At this point in life I was so terrified of roller coasters I am astonished I did not pass out simply at the sight and sound of them. Outside of braving the bumper cars (which was quite necessary considering the driving I am up against now in Massachusetts), I merely observed everyone else while consuming large amounts of cotton candy and many other things children should not have in their bellies while going upside down on flying objects named “Iron Wolf," "Demon," and “The Raging Bull”. Looking back, I can’t even remember why I was afraid. What is obvious from me being there even though I didn’t go on any rides, however, is that I wished I could go on them. But seeing someone doing something that you could do, but you don’t because you are so full of fear, is almost worse than not knowing about it in the first place.
Fast forward to my “legitimate trip”. As I entered Six Flags with three other friends my most adamant foe loomed before me: The Raging Bull. There was no escaping it. I’m pretty sure they place The Raging Bull right at the entrance to taunt all “weenies” that enter. This was one of those “all or nothing” moments. No baby steps allowed. It was time to kill this fear by going on one of the craziest rides the theme park could offer. It was a good thing I felt this way too because my friends were making a beeline for it while pulling me along.
You first step into your seat with a lot of confidence. The confidence that you made a good life choice quickly fades away as the ride begins to move. You begin to realize this is instead a very bad life choice, as the ride moves ever so slowly up the steepest metal mountain known to man. What goes up must come down. It dawns on you that you have absolutely no clue how bad this is going to be. This is also a time where you start laughing like a lunatic in the crazy bin (that is if your mouth has any saliva left in it and your heart hasn’t made its way into your throat and mouth). You realize you have absolutely no control now that you are on the ride. Why when you were in control you made the choice of getting on is a mystery greater than what’s love got to do with it. But before you can finish your next thought you are barreling down a 208 foot drop at 73 miles per hour that lifts you out of your seat. If you didn't know any better you'd think you were free falling at a 90ยบ angle. When all is said and done you get out of your seat with the help of a shoe horn, uncontrollably shaking from a torrential downpour of adrenaline. You must not be thinking clearly at all by this point because the first thing you do is pull your friends over to the line to do it all over again. You really wouldn't have it any other way. You couldn't have it any other way. It is no longer possible to simply sit and observe now that the fear is gone.
I have come to realize I would rather be following Jesus and release all control to Him rather than not following Jesus and maintaining all control. What moving out to Massachusetts and stepping out into what I was made for as partially witnessed by my trip to Vienna this summer has taught me is this: We only move into the unknown out of love. Reason and fully understanding will never get us to where God wants us to go with Him. And this is the best part - that when Jesus says, "Come, follow me," He is there with us, enjoying the ride.
Here is a picture update of the internship weekend WHM hosted two weekends ago in Pennsylvania. This weekend was so refreshing as it gave me the chance to meet my Vienna team members, others going around the world this summer, bond with my teammates, learn about WHM's heart for Jesus and missions, skype with the Vienna church planters, and eat some delicious home cooked meals (both American and Ugandan)!
Me with three out of four Vienna interns!
YAY!
ReplyDeleteI enjoy how you casually drop little jewels into your writing, how I can hear/see you speak this (the asides are great too), and that you included media in this post. I especially like how you explicitly inform the readers of pieces of your life, then connect them together and allow us to see the grand journey you're on and God's beautiful simplicity. ahh soo good. Thank you for asking us to follow you ;]
ReplyDeletejewels from your heart that inspired mine
// We only move into the unknown out of love. Reason and fully understanding will never get us to where God wants us to go with Him.