Getting Comfortable with Uncomfortable

I can feel the rumblings of a new beginning. I’ve been here before. I am resistant. That’s the problem with getting comfortable in life.

Seven years ago, when I was alone and uncomfortable in life, I walked the California beaches alone and prayed desperately for God to meet me and to bring friends into my life. He answered far above and beyond what I could have hoped or imagined.

In time, life got good, comfortable. I stopped praying to meet new people. I stopped praying for God use to me because I was being used daily within the circle of people He had already given. In some ways, I stopped needing Him because He had provided all that I had trusted Him to provide.

That’s not a bad place to be! If I’ve learned anything, I want to recognize and enjoy the good gifts of the Lord—every day. I want to be grateful for His blessings and answered prayers while also always seeking Him for more. Not more things or people or experiences, but more of Himself, more of what He wants for my life. That’s what you stop doing as much when life gets comfortable or predictable even. You forget Jesus is always calling you to more of Himself.

Don’t you think God knows this? He knows that change is good for us. It feeds our souls. It stretches and strengthens us in ways we cannot orchestrate for ourselves. I truly believe if we ever get too comfortable and slow the pace of seeking His face, He will gift change to break the spell of comfort. We can seek change for ourselves willingly, or we will be given change unexpectedly. We can accept this is what is best, or we can fight tooth and nail against the changing tide. Change is inevitable in life, much like death. To refuse to acknowledge the presence of either in this life is foolishness.

And much like death, change must be grieved. Anger, denial, sadness, acceptance—these are all part of the process of change. Our culture doesn’t like the emotions of anger, denial, and sadness. It frowns upon their presence. We don’t know how to sit and just be with people who are angry, in denial, or sad, so we often leave them alone until they’ve reached acceptance. When they’ve had time to accept is when it’s safe to reach out. Until they’ve reached acceptance, investing in them means weathering hurt feelings, irrational outbursts, frustrating mindsets, and tears—so many tears.

Yet, those are the people I treasure! The ones who lean in and take nothing personally when “attacked” because they’re wise enough to know there’s more going on under the surface than themselves. They stay. They connect. They seek the ones who can’t seek for themselves right now.

Isn’t that what Jesus did? He went to the people hurting and seeking and always met them right where they were. He leaned in and got dirty and sat with them in their homes. He listened to their cries, spoke with them in the dark, and gently showed them truth. He gave them the gift of Himself—His presence, His attention, His truth, His time, His acceptance of their shortcomings. He spoke most harshly to those who would judge these in their anger, denial, and sadness.

My life just got flipped, turned upside down, and I’ve been taking a minute to process here in Georgia. I’m back to the lonely days of just me and Jesus. I’m back to seeking His company first. I probably should have never stopped. I’m soaking in my time with just Him because I’ve learned it’s during this hard season of quiet stillness and waiting, when Jesus sits with you that the enormity of His presence fills and stretches the heart slowly. For me, He uses this time to not just allow wounds to rest and heal but to strengthen the muscles of my heart I will need to move forward, to enlarge and make space in me for what He will provide to fill.

It’s uncomfortable to be stretched, sometimes even painful. But like I said, I’ve been here before. I trust the process a little bit more this time around. I know these quiet days won’t last. God will fill them in His time in ways He sees best; I need only wait and watch and be ready.

“So, Father, fill me with You. Fill all of me. Stretch me with Your great abiding presence. I will wait. I will wait for You to move first, and where You go, I will go because I know now, You’ve already walked the path ahead of me, and You know what I need today to be ready for tomorrow. So, I trust You bottle all my tears, Lord. Not one of them is shed in secret or in vain. Thank You for valuing and loving me enough to change me, to mold me into Your unique creation. Thank You that even in the pain of the grief of change, You are with me. I am never alone.”