Be Still

Blog by Kristen Hicks

Tears are an interesting design. There isn’t another human reaction that actually can mean so many different things. Tears of joy at watching a couple get married or a baby born. Tears of grief at the loss of a loved one. Tears because you are laughing so incredibly hard. Tears of pain, heartache, confusion, despair. Tears for unknown reasons. I think tears are God’s way of releasing us— allowing our hearts and souls to breathe. 

Lately, I’ve wept before the Lord, unlike I have done in a really long time. I’ve grieved my past, wrestled with my present, and cried out about my future. Lately, I’ve been looking back a lot. Not because, I want to go back, but I keep feeling like I left something pretty significant somewhere back there. It’s weird to look back on our life. I don’t know about you, but I see different versions of myself all over the place. Little “Kristens” running around, being shaped and molded by all different kinds of situations and circumstances. It’s crazy how we end up “here”—wherever “here” is at whatever moment one is in presently. 

I often think about “high school Kristen”. She was so shy. She saw the world through glasses of possibility though. Anything was possible. She had this little card hanging in her locker of a fishbowl. There were a couple of goldfish in it and a purple fish jumping out of the bowl into the unknown and the card read “Dare to Be Different”. “High school Kristen” wasn’t trying to start a trend, she wasn’t looking to be different for the sake of being different. She just loved Jesus so much and she knew He called her to be different and live differently. She knew this life with Him was such an adventure, with endless possibilities—and she was ready for them. Her heart was full of dreams of traveling the world and singing and loving on people in the dirt and streets and anywhere that Jesus would take her. I recall even her first mission trip, her senior year. She was nervous, but I’ll never forget the moment when she realized that Jesus would go with her and all of her fears of uncertainty suddenly disappeared. Just like that. She just loved being with Him and doing things with Him. She was a treasure and she knew it because she believed God and everything He said to her was true and sacred and it was to be protected. He was to be worshiped at all times and in every way.  

Then came along “college-age Kristen”. Ooo, ahhh. Or as I like personally and affectionally call her “know-it-all Kristen”. These were the years when Kristen began to see negativity— in the world, in the church, in culture. She began speaking out about it and she sounded real smart too. People listened to her. They loved it when she eloquently bashed the church and all the things wrong with it. So she did it boldly and eagerly. Simultaneously, Kristen began to learn about the Holy Spirit and began to experience things she always knew were true. But she had never seen or heard of those around her experiencing them. Which only led her to believe that no one else really knew about them. She began to think she was special. But not in the treasured sort of way that her heavenly Father had spoken over her. Special as in more of an entitled, “get like me”, arrogant sort of way. But the Lord knew how to deal with such a thing. This was certainly not the first time He had to strip someone of pride and put them in their place. This was quite a hard process, however, and Kristen didn’t fully understand the Lord’s heart, therefore, she felt a lot of shame and was disappointed in herself. Her pride began growing in a different direction. The direction of unworthiness. But at the core, it was still pride.

Moving her right along into her early-mid 20s. Those were the years she had been dreaming of her entire life. The years when she would be old enough to be wooed and pursued and cherished by a man who would win her affections. She had hoped and been let down by a few different guys up until that point. But her heart still believed and trusted that God would write her love story. She watched as friend after friend easily found their person and she celebrated with them the faithfulness of the Lord in their lives. Although Kristen found herself feeling lonely at times she still believed that hers was right around the corner. But he wasn’t. She began to hear lies. These lies she would eventually accept (due to the unworthiness, of course) as if they were banners over her life. They became the titles of her season—“rejected Kristen”, “unwanted Kristen”, “too much Kristen”, “too (fill in the blank) Kristen”, “ugly, fat, unattractive Kristen”, etc…. 

The names kept coming all the way through her late 20s. It was harder to hear the voice of her Father because it was filtered through the thoughts of that He was disappointed in her, He was mad at her. Shame and guilt were her companions as she tried her best to keep seeking. However, with those two as companions she had to find a way to manage them and the weight and exhaustion she felt from them. So she learned to cope. She coped with TV, pornography, social media, venting, anything and everything that would give her at least a little relief. But afterward she found she had dug herself deeper than ever before. The names began to feel more and more hopeless and permanent  “All your fault Kristen”, “Trapped Kristen”, “Addicted Kristen”, “Tainted Kristen”. “Impure Kristen”, “Adulterer Kristen”, “Never enough Kristen”.

Isn’t it interesting how all of this began with pride. 

I feel like all the different seasons I’ve been in, all the situations, all the hard places, the confusing places, the draining places—although they have all had different names and faces and included different people— they have all stemmed from that one little root of pride that I let grow back in college. 

“Be Still, Kristen.”

He said it over and over and I couldn’t figure out why. 

One of my favorite songs is this song called “House on a Hill” by Amanda Lindsey Cook. There is one line that says, “Some things you can’t know till you’re still.”

It’s true.

I thought it was about something different. I thought it was just about rest. And yes, to some degree it was. Rest from my need to fix what I was never asked to fix. Rest from my need to be heard, to argue, to defend. I didn’t know that my own intolerance and eagerness to speak up and to point out the flaws in the Body of Christ would only end in my own deconstructed vice. I didn’t know that in my own attempt to shine light on the impurity in the Body of Christ would be the very foothold the enemy needed to grow my own weed of impurity. He never asked me for my opinions, my intellect, my interpretations. He never needed my judgements from my very small, selfish, minuscule of a perspective. He never needed me at all.

It’s simple really. He just asked me for my heart and life because He wanted it. The more I surrender and listen and obey Jesus because I know He loves me, the more I will walk in purity and that changes His Body. And suddenly there are again endless possibilities. 

So I will answer the invitation to be still and know that He is God and I am not. I will open my eyes not to see through negative lenses—the short-comings and failures— but by faith I will see my First Love in all His Strength and Power, giving Him all the Glory and Honor and Worship that He deserves.