It was always You.

WORDS OF TESTIMONY

Jan 09, 2023

I did not plan on this.

In fact, I really, *really* didn’t want it all to unfold as it has.

I turned away from You.
I scoffed at You.
I wrestled with You.
I struggled against You.
I resisted You.
I doubted You.

I eagerly and scrupulously fixed my gaze towards any and all evidence that could disprove the supernatural sideshow my life with You had become.

No—I didn’t want a relationship with God. Regardless, You sought me out and pursued a relationship with me, admittedly rather relentlessly.

No—I had no desire to be inspired by the Holy Spirit. But You had been deliberately filling my world with Your wisdom since I cracked opened my heart to the mere possibility of You.

No—I didn’t care to know Jesus. But You already knew me, before I was ever created. And all along, You’ve had a plan in store for me.

Tara Bliss, a former mentor of mine from my own early years of coaching, now eight years ago, “re-introduced” herself on Instagram after her recent rebirth in Christ.

She wrote, “Anything but You. It was going to be anything but You.”

I share her sentiment, wholly.

I was raised in a very secular environment, a space where the idea of You didn’t occupy much space whatsoever.

I can vaguely remember being gifted a children’s Bible as a little girl. With a Biblical name, I was always intrigued by the stories of the Old Testament; But there was never an invitation to understand the greater posture that God might hold in my life.

I can remember attending services at a local Christian Science church a handful of times as a young child where we lived in Northern California; But I don’t remember there ever being any valuable discussion about Christ beyond that rather superficial encounter on the occasional Sunday morning, when I’d usually be found asleep under the pews.

My Dad was raised Jewish and he invited me to have a Bat Mitzvah as a pre-teen; But because I hadn’t engaged in any Jewish tradition beyond the occasional spoken Hanukkah prayer and lighting of the candles, I didn’t understand what it meant to ritually come of age in Judaism. I declined to participate.

At age thirteen, I had a close friend whose family attended church every Sunday and I’d occasionally join them if we’d had a weekend sleepover. I frequently heard about how her controlling, religious father tirelessly worked to keep her under his thumb—which, in countless ways, I encouraged her to resist and rebel. My heart was hardened; The Church, like her father, represented tyranny.

The private preparatory high-school I attended while growing up on Maui was loosely affiliated with the Episcopal Church. During thrice weekly all-school assemblies, the Prayer of St. Francis would be spoken or sung aloud to all in attendance; My friends and I would scoff with side eyes, giggling “Yay God,” under our breath during the praise and invocation. God was just a joke to us.

My mother’s family of origin were mostly Catholic and, even though we were quietly respectful of their beliefs, there was an undertone that pervaded my home which dismissed the tenants of a Christ-centered lifestyle as fundamentally backwards and repressive.

The Church was neither warm nor positive in my eyes. Christians were “Jesus Freaks” and “Bible Thumpers…” Cold, bitter, irrational, close-minded folks who didn’t practice birth control, spanked their children, and believed this world was the hapless chess-board of an old guy in the sky.

While my people—We were logical… liberal… intellectual… progressive… with our heads on straight… living on the right side of history.

Mostly, I doubted that God existed at all. And surely, Jesus was only a man, a historical figure, a spiritual teacher at best.

Those earliest memories of You are colored by irreverence, indifference, estrangement.

If not entirely absent from my life, You were most definitely supremely uncool.

So, if someone would have told me even just three years ago that I’d be here with You now—I would have likely laughed at them hysterically or shaken my head in disbelief.

It has been quite the labyrinthine, rambling journey to get to this moment… I honestly have trouble even pinpointing precisely when or where the odyssey began.

But I sense that I’ve been reaching out to You my entire life.

While seeking good favor from my wildly imperfect family of origin.
In academic pursuits and my unending thirst for approval through achievement.
Backpacking a plethora of foreign lands in my youth.
At the bottom of a bottle, in a pill, in a powder, in a daily cannabis habit.
In the bedroom of numerous unholy, unsatisfying courtships.
Years of studying neuroscience, psychology, philosophy… any course of study that helped to explain why we humans are the way that we are.
In divination, oracle cards, tarot, astrology, and psychic readings.
Bending and contorting my body into a myriad of shapes in my yoga practice.
Gazing inward for days on end in silent meditation halls and retreat centers.
Through dozens of psychedelic shamanic ceremonies in the Peruvian Amazon.
Crusading fervently and righteously against the man for equality and social justice.
In countless sessions with therapists, healers, practitioners, shrinks, coaches, mentors.
At women’s circles, group retreats, festivals, summits, classes, trainings.
Endlessly seeking out the next practice, ritual, supplement, promise, cure.

You name it… I did it.

A smorgasbord of techniques to self-soothe, feel good, be happy. A buffet of self-help and hodgepodge of spiritual practices to heal the brokenness. A plethora of onerous attempts to earn Your grace and my place in the world. A deluge of ways to self-source my emancipation in order to be liberated from the mess of my humanness and the backwardness of the world. No lack of invitations to traverse the wide path towards what the overculture deems worthy, valid, valuable, acceptable.

Unfortunately, like the saccharine of fake sugar, I found that these ways only offered me a shallow sweetness, a promise of quick power, an empty hope of nourishment that ultimately failed to truly satisfy. I began to recognize an underlying frantic nature to these miscellany of attempts at goodness, a kind of unquenchable thirst, a never-ending seeking that was always looking, looking, looking for the next hit to satisfy the insatiable.

“Study this… Learn this… Do this… Buy this… Try this…”

Bigger. Better. Faster. Stronger.

More. More. More.

I recently heard someone suggest that human beings were made to worship.

Christian author and counselor John Eldredge writes, “Worship is what we give our hearts over to in exchange for the promise of life.”

We might find the focus of our worship resting upon accolades, accomplishments, productivity, or status. We worship science, politics, technology… celebrities, influencers, teachers… knowledge, credentials, degrees… wealth, appearances, gadgets… temporary pleasures, substances, feelings… cosmic bodies, geographic locations, natural phenomena… Or, our worship becomes directed at our marriages, our children, our ancestors, our communities, ourselves.

We passionately worship the Creation without ever setting our eyes in the direction of the Creator. We worship horizontally, looking to fellow wanderers around us to fulfill an existential longing. We worship inwardly, leaning on our own understanding and our individual perceptions, tastes, and preferences in a myriad of subtle or overt ways.

We can surely sense that something is off; We ache for Eden, but we spend our time mining fool’s gold and stacking rotten fruit—skeptically hesitant to give ourselves back to You in an act of abandoned trust. We fight against Your authority, accusing You of cruel indifference and desertion, all the while looking to another to offer the guidance and extend the reprieve we so desperately hunger for. We find ourselves enchanted by the lies of an invisible Adversary, with no idea how captive and desperate we truly are.

It is as if we humans have a God-sized hole we are trying to fill with something, anything we can get our hands on. But like forcing a square peg in a round opening, we grab onto things that will never ultimately fulfill—because they simply cannot and will not ever meet the need we have to experience the glory of Your deep abiding love.

Allow me to be clear—I do not sit here sternly condemning my old life, nor the ones who’ve walked with me as my teachers, peers, or students. This is not a dig at anyone. I sit on no high horse and I am in no place to point fingers. My purpose here is not to judge, shame, or belittle, but to gently trace my hands over the circuitous path God had me walk to get to this moment.

It’s all been part of the journey.

And I recognize now that my challenges, my ambition, and my defiance are not exclusive nor unique to me. The struggles I face, the distortions I perceive, the pride I carry, the misplaced worship I engage in, the hapless inclinations I continue to experience… they are part and parcel of what it means to be alive, in this human body, living in this upside down.

As our relationship has grown, I’ve felt You begin to gently discipline me, shining Your compassion on my misgivings, persistently course correcting my missteps, loyally redirecting my words, deeds, and actions in accordance with Your will and Your natural laws.

And I can see now what I did not see then...

Through all the reaching, striving, and surviving. All the backbends and contortions. All the shadows and disorientation. All the doubt and unbelonging.

Hindsight is 20/20: It was really You that I needed. It was Your love I was seeking all the while.

And, of course, I can see You have been at work within me the whole time.

Pulling out weeds and planting seeds for future growth. Leaving a trail of breadcrumbs for me to follow. Shining fervently like a lighthouse for me to find You in the darkness.

And there is no doubt that the darkness and evil of this world is unbelievably devastating and horrible.

But in spite of the darkness, and through the clashes, the upheavals, the tragedies, the betrayals, the myriad of twists and the turns that’ve marked my life—You are still there, beautiful and unchanging. You’ve been there, patiently working all things for good.

Seasoning me.
Softening me.
Encouraging me.
Redirecting me.
Refining me.
Transforming me.
Drawing me in closer.

A couple of years ago, Your followers began to appear in my life in remarkable and mysterious ways. I’d notice them virtuously abiding in Your beauty, experiencing profound levels of healing and sincere, heartfelt fulfillment… and I genuinely wondered—What on Earth did they possess that I did not? What might a relationship with You really mean? And was there even room in Your world for me?

What began as a casual and clumsy inquiry, a quizzical examination, an occasional glance in Your direction, slowly but surely over time grew into deep yearning, earnest reverence, and humble allegiance. In Your presence, my heart began to transform.

I thought I could keep this newfound passion for You private, an undercover affair. I could paint You up in pretty words, tolerable epithets, acceptable euphemisms for those who asked. I could carve a safe and comfortable space in which to tuck my adoration for You away from the world.

I cried listening to the rich soul of worship music, but would try to hide my tears, lower the volume, and change the song if anyone entered the room. I began reading and studying the Word, but only ever discreetly and out-of-the-way using a Bible app in the early morning dim light of my cellphone or via audio alone in my car. I covertly studied Greek and Hebrew etymology, trying to understand the Biblical scripture that to my ears seemed so off, only to realize that my cultural lenses were what was preventing me from accurately interpreting the original context and the Truth of what had been written. I’d occasionally engage my closest of kin in conversation around topics of which I’d once held wildly contrasting beliefs; They’d meet me with rather quizzical looks, scratching their heads wondering who this woman was and what I did with Rachael.

Mostly, I hid You away for many, many months… nervous of what others might think of me if they discovered my rather out-of-left-field fresh fanatical fondness for You.

I was afraid of being cancelled (again), labeled as hateful, backwards, a bigot.

I was afraid of somehow losing closeness with the people I loved dearly who didn’t vibe with my new life.

I was afraid walking with You would be wholly incompatible with my passion for psychology, the body, the nervous system, the healing arts.

I was afraid of throwing away the career I’d devoted the greater part of my adult life.

I was afraid of looking like a fool.

I was afraid.

But this secret I held began to feel like a thick, suffocating plexiglass blocking me from knowing You more deeply.

And I soon came to realize that this was no ordinary love.

I found that the more my affection grew, the more I simply couldn’t hide it any longer. The more I realized I didn’t care how much I might be judged, ridiculed, or dismissed. The more I saw how the disciplines I’d felt organically drawn towards turned even more potent when passed over by the Word of God. The more I understood that what mattered most was greater than any favor this world could offer.

And what mattered most was You.

In late November, I found myself in the emergency room with my oldest son, who’d just had a severe reaction to a scorpion sting. As I sat there in silent prayer, holding every ounce of inner fortitude I’d ever trained myself to possess, I felt myself fall slow motion into the hands of Your mercy. It was strange and otherworldly—and simultaneously the greatest comfort I’ve ever known.

During this harrowing experience, You filled the frantic, anxious spaces within me with a still and quiet warmth. It was there in the ER, amidst all the mechanical beeps and hums, that I heard this small, yet compelling voice whisper, “Come, my beloved child.”

As I closed my eyes, slowed my breath, and tuned in, I knew it was You. And in that stale and sterile windowless room I made a vow, an internal declaration of sorts, that if my son were to pull through this, I’d stop hiding and I would place my life fully in Your hands.

Of course when he recovered and the doctor signed off on his discharge papers later that night, my mind naturally went looking for ways I could rescind on the promise I’d made.

Sure, I could stay par the course, tossed here and there on the world’s wanton track…

“There is no such thing as good or bad.”
“Morality is relative.”
“Truth is subjective.”
“It’s all made up anyways.”
“Do what you feel.”
“You are God, anyhow.”

Yeah, I could always keep living life on my terms, doing my own thing, pushing my will, advancing my agenda—enamored with my small stories and my false gods, bound up in my addictions and unbelief, stubborn in my self-determination, insistent that Your ways were somehow a threat to my liberty, forever trying to placate these fickle, self-protective patterns, in rebellious defiance of Your leadership, convinced that I was somehow equal to or more intelligent than You.

But by then I’d born witness to the power of Your presence and received the prayer of true freedom, and I knew the only way forward was into the mystery of Your life-giving waters, into the bright open spaces of Your love, into full, devotional union.

So, through all my lingering fear and hesitation, I chose to give my heart to You.

Since that day, I’ve found myself continuously brought to tears as I rest into the knowledge that You lived and died to give me eternal life… A gracious tribute never owed to me and the greatest gift I’ve ever known.

I am left breathless realizing that my rather constant proclivity towards royally screwing up and missing the mark isn’t a personal defect, but a universal burden of this human condition… And, rather miraculously, You still cherish me and Your power is always made perfect in my weakness.

I am broken open regularly as I recognize that in You I am now free from the incessant, unbearable demand of healing, improving, and renewing myself.

I am brought to my knees again and again as I remember that I don’t have to strive in order to prove myself or earn Your favor.

I am edified to know how good and faithful and merciful and just You truly are.

And I am here… wholly unexpectedly… tender, raw, heart cracked wide open… in deep and willful submission… in surrender and devotion to the One.

The sound of revival plays sweetly.
You love me more than I could ever imagine.
You are where the joy is!
I’ve never experienced such peace.

I am humbly uncertain of the path that lies ahead—but I don’t worry of what’s to come, knowing You’ll continue to be there by my side.

My earnest curiosity still remains, and I pray it is never replaced by the chains of hubris.

There is still a spiritual battle raging… The pain, struggles, and grief haven’t somehow magically evaporated—but there is a tone of faith that echos throughout my efforts and my heart is no longer up for grabs.

And while I’ve never felt more vulnerable offering this testimony forth here today, I find myself unabashedly trusting in You to hold me close and abide in me.

So… Yes, it’s true.
I stand here, reborn… made anew.

My life is now a living sacrifice to You, my savior, the King of my heart… Jesus Christ.

“I’m convinced that nothing can separate us from God’s love in Christ Jesus our Lord: not death or life, not angels or rulers, not present things or future things, not powers or height or depth, or any other thing that is created.”

Romans 8:38-39