If I Could Sit In My Car Forever...

About a year ago, I picked up this habit of sitting in my car for a good 10-20 minutes after I got home from work. I would pull up in front of my house and just sit there with the engine off. See, I knew that as soon as I walked inside my house, I would have to deal with my parents, my mountains of homework, and all the other stresses of life.
So instead, I would delay going inside for as long as practically possible. Sometimes I would browse social media, other times I would read my bible app, or maybe I was texting a friend. Then sometimes, I would just sit in my car and dwell in the intense silence that is only possible in a setting like that.
I used to find it so fascinating how if you sat really still, not making even a rustle of noise, the silence would steadily grow louder, until it was almost an overwhelming sensation of quiet noise. When everything is silent, every little noise is loud. Anyway, I really enjoyed those meditative minutes to myself.

Now, over a year later, at college, I don't get the luxury of pulling up to a quaint little house every night. I also rarely get time to be alone. So tonight, after dropping off a friend and finding a spot in the huge parking lot behind my residence hall, I turned off the car, and just sat there. It's been an especially rough day, and I needed a moment to be by myself. I was reminded of all the times I used to sit in my car at night, reflecting, crying, praying, meditating, thinking, and postponing the stress I would encounter once I opened that door.
So tonight, I sat in my special place of refuge, and breathed. Finally taking a moment to just be still. And then I wrote this poem:

If I could sit in my car forever I would. I would stay here And listen to the silence. Inside- Inside are my responsibilities And stresses Just waiting for me. So I would rather Stay here And sit in my car Where the worries of tomorrow And duties of tonight Cannot touch me Just yet. If I could sit in my car forever I would. I would stay here In my quiet kingdom Of peace and solitude And spend a moment Without the chaos That awaits me Inside. My secluded safe haven. My personal sanctuary. My solitary space. My car. If I could sit in my car forever I would. But the world so beckons And demands That I face its problems. I must leave This meditative encounter
Behind.
And so
Reluctantly I go
Inside.

Oh how I wish I could live in a perpetual state of the peace that I find sitting in my car at night, but alas, at some point, we all have to go inside.

Do You Trust Me?

"Do you trust me?"

God was getting sassy with me.

"But Lauren, do you trust me? Do you trust that I know what I'm doing? Do you trust that whatever happens is because I love you and I know what is best for you? Do you trust me enough to step back and give me control? Oh Lauren, do you really trust me?"

This was my spring break. Days of this back-and-forth battle with God. And I'll be honest, it was one of the most amazing tests I've ever endured.

Okay, allow me to explain. Do you ever try to talk your way out of doing what God asks of you? You hear his command, but then you doubt it and start telling yourself, "Well maybe that wasn't even God. What if this isn't what God wants me to do? Maybe it's just all in my head. I should just go with my gut...." And then, voila, you're doing exactly the opposite of what God wants because you talked yourself into believing you'd made it all up in the first place.

This has been me lately. When I was home on spring break, there was a situation with a friend that I wanted to resolve (if you've read my blog for any length of time, I'm sure you can figure out what this is about). My natural inclination was to pursue it all on my own - just take it into my own hands and make it happen. But I felt like God had been asking me lately to surrender control. For so long, whenever there was an issue, I would stress about it and try to fix it myself. But that's not what God wants. He says "Cast all your cares on me." So, I decided to take a step back. Instead of reaching out to this friend with somewhat selfish intentions, I would wait for them to contact me. I had to trust that if that's what was best for me, God would make it happen. And if it didn't happen, then God knows what he's doing and this is what I need.

Ugh, it was so hard. I fought with it for days! I would start talking myself out of it, saying:
"Okay, but like, what if this isn't how God wants me to handle it? What if this is just me being lazy and not pursuing what I want? I could send a quick text..." and then I'd hear:
"Do you trust me?" 
"Okay, but it couldn't do much harm to just reach out...."
"But do you trust me?"
"If I don't do something, I might not get what I want. The opportunity might slip through my hands!"
"But Lauren, do you trust me?"

I realized, this whole thing isn't about me getting what I want, or trusting that God will give me what I want, but surrendering the constant control I cling to and letting God have his way in this situation, trusting that he will not bring me harm, if only I trust him.
So that's what I did. I wrote "Do you trust me" on my palm as a reminder of God's request whenever I was tempted to take matters into my own hands. So, by doing nothing, I trusted him.

.....for a few days. It came down to the last day of my break, and I knew I was running out of time. I was angry. "God, I'm trusting you, but I'm not getting what I want! I'm standing by, but nothing's happening! My time is running out, and all I want is to have one simple, earthly conversation with an old friend. I don't think that would do any harm....." But deep down, I knew it would. This is someone God has told me to let go of. And here I was, wanting more than anything to hold on.
So, I broke my promise to God. I reached out to this "friend." I had had enough of waiting for God to make it happen, because I knew that if I didn't do anything, it wouldn't happen. I had begged God to give me what I want. My prayers turned from "God, I really want this, but I trust that if it doesn't happen, it's what is best for me," to "God, I really want this. PLEASE give it to me! I'm going to be so upset if you don't."

And as it turns out, God is going to do what he wants, even if I try to take things into my own hands. That's right; I broke my vow of silence and reached out to that friend. And God said, "Lol, nope."
It wasn't supposed to happen. And after it didn't work out, I wished so badly that I had actually trusted God and not done anything.

But this was all such a great lesson. I said that I trusted God. I tried to trust God. After he showed me that his plan doesn't change when I try to step in, I realized that I can trust him. Before, when I tried to talk myself out of doing this whole "Step back and don't say anything" thing, I had questioned if this was really what I should be doing. How did I know this was God asking me to stay silent? The morning I "sent the text," I looked up some Bible verses on trust. The very first verse struck me:

The Lord will fight for you, and you have only to be silent. ~Exodus 14:14

Like, okay God; you're just playing a mean trick on me. I mean, how could I ignore that? Sure, it was taken out of context, but it sure was in perfect context for my life. God had asked me to be silent, and here he was, telling me that he'll work everything out for his perfect glory, I just have to shut up and trust him! Looking back, it's amazing that I still pushed all of these messages and signs aside in order to directly disobey what God had asked me to do.

Anyway, I am so thankful for this whole experience. This was a true test from God. And even though I failed it, it taught me so much. Now, the next time I get an inkling of God asking me to do something for him, I can trust that he is in control and he is going to carry out his plan, with or without my intervention, so its best that I just step back and let him do his thing.

Do you trust him?