High Places

It’s the Monday morning, after.

After…a weekend in the glorious North Carolina mountains with 14of my girlfriends to pray, meditate, and worship.

After…days (and nights) of fun and sisterhood and laughter and joy and affirmation.

After…study and meditation and reflection and sweet wonder.

After…the chains came off and hearts were set free.

I am home now, but in some ways, my heart was left behind, in high places.

And now…I find myself in the middle of a long pause. I don’t quite know how to put into words a weekend meeting with God. Words aren’t coming this morning, so instead, I decided to open up my journal from the weekend and take you with me inside my heart.

Though I can’t fully explain the aspects of the weekend, I will tell you that the forgiving and cleansing power of God was very literally displayed for us through the powerful visual of a make-shift Tabernacle. We saw and experienced it in a unique way, one I will not soon forget.

This picture shows my precious friends, Laura and Jennifer, physically washing their hands, symbolic of the sweet cleansing of God. My journal entry begins after my own hand washing moment occurred …

Thursday afternoon, 2:16pm
Washing my hands is something I do all the time. Funny how when I do it as a sacrifice to God – total surrender – how different it feels. Everything with God is different. Mountain air. A roomful of friends. A meal. Laughter. When God’s presence is there, everything is different. An altar of sacrifice. The cleansing washing of hands. I am worshipping Him, but in a still, quiet, intimate way. Sometimes I love to jump and dance and worship loudly, but it’s good to be quietly connected to Him, as well. The song is playing in the background – bow before the Prince of Peace…let the noise and clamor cease…be still. I am still now, sitting in complete reverence of God. Where else would I ever want to be?

Worship
Beautiful presence
In glorious surprise
Holy God in me.

Willing servant
Living in freedom
Shackles are gone.

Mountainous adoration
In awe and in reverence
Majestic creator of all.

Beautiful presence
My soul is singing
Heavy heart, take flight.

I wrote this poem, thinking it was for me. Now I know it was also for my sweet friend, Michelle, who got her wings this weekend. She left the mountain with a new song and like Jacob, a new name.

(The man said, "But no longer. Your name is no longer Jacob. From now on it's Israel (God-Wrestler); you've wrestled with God and you've come through." (Genesis 32:28, The Message)

Thursday night, 4:45pm
We just heard a CD message from Ann Graham Lotz about Jacob in Genesis 32 and his name change. The question was asked, “What does God want my name changed from? What does He want my name changed to? It’s a strange question for me to ask. I admit I’ve never thought about it before. I think I’ll ask Him. Maybe I’m afraid of His answer.

The Difference
A new name
It sounds so strange
Why do I need to change?
He has more.
Much, much more
In store.

But first, my name must change
From fear
To free
From pain
To passion
From dying
To living.

A name changed
A life altered
Abruptly, divinely
A new me.

Many of us had a name change this weekend. Many of us, myself included, peeled back another ugly layer of self to come to a place of sweet surrender. Many of us opened up our clenched hands and turned our palms upward. Many of us said “yes.” Some of us, for the very first time.

Friday Morning, 10:35
He doesn’t need me to figure out His plan for my life. He just wants me to say “yes” in surrender to Him. No one is more detail-oriented and specific than He is, so why do I want control? He doesn’t need my help. I need His. If I do it, I’ll just mess things up. When will I ever learn that He has it all covered?

Sweet Surrender
Yes, Lord
My heart cries out
No holding back.

Fears surrendered
Questions gone
Trust intact.

I’m convinced
You are worthy.
Daddy, Father
Spirit of the living God.

Lead me
Hold me
Be within me.
No holding back.

And then…after a restful night…a glorious day including a magnificent physical trek to a literal high place and prayer between the trees…a night of worship and adoration and holy trembling before the Lord…my next and last journal entry. I was clearly at a loss for words when I wrote just 15 of them to summarize my mountainous experience…

Friday night, 9:32pm
Joy and desire. Free-flowing love and amazement. Radical obedience. Full. Rich. Met with God.

There’s nothing magical about a mountain, of this I’m sure. High places for me don’t represent a “high” of a fleeting, reactionary kind. My heart went to the mountains in full expectation of a brush with God. He met me there, just as He does in my junky bedroom closet on a busy Monday morning. There’s nothing magical about a mountain. There is, however, something very magnificent about my Jesus.

Forever and ever.

He is.

I pause this morning at His holiness. I pause this morning to adore Him. I pause this morning, on an ordinary Monday morning, after meeting with Him in my junky bedroom closet.

I left the mountains, but not the high places. 14 lives were changed this weekend, and it had nothing at all to do with elevation. Glory to God.

Lisa