I am feeling a little lost in this post-Soul61, post-festivals, post-best-friend world... We're done with the course, we're back from the sixteen days of camping, and Daddy asked me to not talk to my best friend for the foreseeable. Last time He did this, I didn't see him for 5 months, but we at least got to talk once a week. I don't think that's an option this time.
I am trying to house-hunt and pack and move in with an aunt who doesn't want me for long and say all the goodbyes as people leave to start their new adventures. All I can see is the sadness at the end of the season, and none of the excitement at the new.
Worship just brings up the tears and pain and grief, so I am avoiding it a little. I love Him, I do. I think I had slightly forgotten the cost of radical obedience in the concrete rather than the abstract, but here it is again. And it will come, again and again and again. But it will be worth it, to see the Kingdom come on earth.
The place I have been camping for the last five days looks nothing like the picture above, but it looks so pretty I couldn't resist... Much more glamorous than Stafford's showground, at any rate. And yet, I would much rather have Stafford and rain and wellies and the glory of God than any number of tents in trees.
This has been an extraordinary week.
I am hoping to be able to draw out some stories as my brain settles and rests a little, but for now, the whole event is a bit of a blur. Highlights were the wheelchairs left empty as people were healed and got up and danced and turned cartwheels, the morning when His presence was so thick that the preach was chucked out of the window so that we could pray, the way the young people learned that they could pray and minister in Holy Spirit's power, the holy joy that was released as they prayed for their youth leaders at the end of the week, the phenomenal truth that was spoken to our broken girls - that they are covered with the blood of our Jesus, the Passover lamb, and that nothing that is life-stealing has a right to them. Death is not welcome in this place.
Goodness, I am tired. Five rest days, and then to Shepton for three festivals in a row.
Bring it on.
