test turns to testimony

There are so many moments I cannot discuss.
I play the cool girl, like everything is okay. It is okay. I am okay. But there are so many events that built me up to be this version of okay. I can't talk much beyond the general descriptions of where things went wrong. Sometimes I have these flashbacks, and I'm reminded of just how strong God thinks I am. I am emotional as I write this. The tears stream down my face. Not because I am sad, but because, in the background, I am listening to "Firm Foundation" by Maverick City, and I am taken back to October 13th. In the stillness of worship at Freedom Church, I find myself defeated.

The day prior, I had taken the morning to tour apartments. There was a sense of desperation to find "the one," what I recognize now was me searching for proof that I was making the right choice. That the place meant for me was going to be found that day and that I would have divine intervention telling me that I was right! Leaving the family I built over eight years and moving out of this 1.3 million-dollar home for a small studio apartment was the right choice! I was hungover and overall in a bad mental space. I had pulled up to the small studio in East Hollywood and immediately burped up the previous night's vodka. I look in the mirror and attempt to wipe off the leftover eyeliner from the previous night. I throw on my sunglasses and walk up to the apartment. There was no divine intervention. God didn’t show up. At least not in the way I had hoped. The apartment was not for me, respectfully.

I get in the car and drive over to K-Town. The streets are loud with what felt like every single car honking—let me remind you, I am brutally hungover. I arrive at the apartment, and there is no street parking. I am driving around and around and around. Nothing. Uhhh, what am I going to do when I actually live here? I put my Simi address in the navigation and go home. I try not to cry, which, actually, I have mastered (for some reason, I find it very hard to cry lately). "This is where God led you! Don’t go back on it now," is what the voice in my head tells me. I am extremely confused. I pray out to God, begging Him to make it make sense. I believe, as a Christian, this moment is extremely crucial to growing in faith. I begin to doubt myself. I begin to doubt Him. I question if maybe I misunderstood something. Maybe I wasn't close enough to Him to understand. Maybe I was reading scripture wrong. Wait, what if I was listening to my own voice and not His?

Silence. No response from God. Angels didn’t show up. There was no fingerprint of Jesus. So I tortured myself with the thoughts of despair. I went home and did what everyone should do in moments like these: I ordered Taco Bell, jumped in the jacuzzi, and then took a nap. Upon waking up, I decided to give myself one more opportunity to see God's grace through. I set up Wednesday to be the day I would knock out as many apartment viewings as possible.

The following day, there I am at Sunday’s service. I was past the "questioning God" part. I was just defeated and vulnerable. I begin to pray as I usually do during worship. "God, show up. You say You show up to those who ask You to, so I am asking. I have nothing left in me. I am empty. I have given up my life to follow what I thought You led me to. Show up." And just as I pray that, the lyrics "Rain came, wind blew, my house was built on You" are heard in the background. Light bulb moment. The tears naturally begin to fall. I get it. I am not the best at describing these divine moments, so bear with me while I attempt to describe how it all made sense.

My house is not a building. It is not a structure with four walls.
My home is God. He is where I rest. He is where I eat and breathe.
My flesh and selfish desires wanted so badly to be fulfilled by a physical place. I was never going to find rest in that. I was not designed to find peace in that.
My house is built on God. I was mentally going about it all wrong. I wanted something physical to compensate for the reality I was facing. Interestingly enough, the vanity I was living in was the exact thing I was trying to leave. I surrendered immediately to this thought process, and with my broken heart, I prayed, "God, I am building my house on You."

The first apartment I toured that following Wednesday was everything I never knew I needed.
I submitted an application on Thursday. Friday, I was approved and signed the lease. I moved in that Monday.

Maybe one day I’ll talk about the details of how I became the strong woman I am. I hate that I sound like a victim, because I am not. I am an example. An example of God's constant grace, God's love for His child, and God’s never-ending patience. For now, I want to talk about how God showed up for me. This is my testimony!