Katie wrote:

This is from a student's blog:

So it's been about six months since I last blogged. You probably thought I died. Believe it or not, I'm still alive. A lot has happened over this period of time. Life threw itself at me these past six months. I am ashamed to admit what I am about to say, but I know that I need to. Because I have to admit it to myself. These past six months my walk with Jesus hasn't been so great. I started to slip away. Not on purpose. I'm not even sure how it happened. But it did. Through different circumstances, I guess. Something really ugly was thrown at me during these past six months. And while the details of what happened aren't something important to this story, much less to be shared, the aftermath of what happened plays a role in where I'm going with this.

This summer, the world that I knew was rocked and turned upside down into something I didn't recognize. My trust and self confidence were completely rattled and shaken up. I didn't know who to believe, or if I could ever believe anyone again. And I felt so small. I felt so insignificant and unimportant. I felt as though I was of no value or consequence to anyone. Because of this, and my deep trust issues, I started to fall away from everything. I distanced myself from my friends. I was so terrified of trusting anyone. The idea made me so paranoid. So much so that eventually I distanced myself from God. I didn't mean to do these things. They just sort of happened.

Months passed, and I watched myself become who I know I'm not. I became extremely numb and apathetic. I watched myself constantly do stupid things, just because I knew they were bad for me. I'm not proud of it. I just did things in hopes that I might feel something, because it was better than feeling nothing. Eventually my friendships were repaired, but my walk with Jesus was still suffering. And I knew it was because I wasn't making an effort. I didn't want to face the fact that I had let it become that way.

Tonight I went to youth group. We opened like always, with the telling of jokes and fart stories. Everyone was loud and laughing. Then we settled in and started worship. The band played a few songs and everyone was singing along. They closed the set with How He Loves. As we sang, I was beginning to feel my heart break. But not in a bad way. I could feel it breaking down defenses, letting down walls, mending scars. The band went silent, and all of us sang out
He loves us
Oh how He loves us
Oh how He loves us
Oh how he loves...
But it wasn't just singing. We were doing more than singing. Singing is polite. Singing is nice to listen to. We were belting. We were shouting. We were begging. We were calling out. We were being real. And for the first time in months, I felt myself be real too. I felt the real me coming back to life. I felt Jesus reaching out His hands to me. All I could do was throw up my hands and reach back. I sang the words loud, but not pretty. But that's how it's supposed to be.

Now I am running.
I am running Home.
I am running Home and I'm not looking back.
I'm breaking free. And I am running.

Praise God!

Grace and Peace be with you.