I often feel like a loaded gun lately. If you’ve ever fired a pistol, you know exactly what I mean. There’s this spot where the gun is loaded and cocked, your finger’s on the trigger, and you start pulling back. Just before the shot goes off, there’s this point of tension in the trigger. At that point, the bullet is as close as it could possibly be to being fired off without actually being gone, and you can feel the pressure in the trigger. You have to pull a little harder at that point than any other, and then it’s gone.
That’s how I feel much of the time lately. I feel like a loaded gun, one that’s experiencing all the tension and pressure of an impending shot, but is waiting on the hand of the gunman to finish the job. And the way I’m describing it, it probably sounds like a bad thing. And in moments, it feels like it. But for the most part, it just feels like anticipation.
God has been speaking and moving a lot lately in my spirit, and consistently confirming His movements through the people around me. And it’s that terribly disorienting place where He’s not actually saying words…just giving a small impression and then a confirmation. And then a small impression and then a confirmation. And then another small impression and another confirmation. And the way these stirrings rise and fall has me all strung out and praying for a resolution. I know He’s in the middle of something, and I know we’re on the verge of another chapter…and I feel like I’m constantly on the edge of my seat, waiting for the final go.
I absolutely ache at the idea of no longer working in the city. Despite the fact that I don’t know if I have a job there in August, I can’t find it in my heart to apply anywhere else, because those kids, that culture…they’re more than just a job to me. Infinitely more than just a job. And I know God took me there for a reason, and I know that He has spent years getting me to this point where I can say that I honestly believe that inner city ministry is what I was born for. Which is crazy. How unlikely is it that a sheltered little girl from a conservative Baptist family in a small town could grow up to learn that where she fits best, better than anywhere else, is in the middle of a place that’s very little less than a war zone? It’s so ridiculous it makes me laugh sometimes. But I absolutely belong there. And I want to do more. I don’t know what it’s going to look like, but I know that I absolutely ache to do more, to bring the love and the kingdom and the Christ that I know to a dominantly Godless place. I’ve never witnessed a bigger need in my life than I do in that school and in that city. And I am haunted in pretty much every moment right now by how to get in there and get my hands dirty and be a part of the change catalyst.
I feel like a loaded gun.