What Makes Me More Dependent?

A few times each year, I get the chance to experience a unique blend of complete calm, intense exhilaration, and profound release—a sensation of transcending from one world to another. Paddling out into the ocean, just far enough that the laughter and chatter of kids swimming fades away. There’s complete stillness, except for the gentle roll of waves beneath me, and then I lie down, perfectly in line with the water. When I turn my head one way, I’m reminded of the shore’s safety, just minutes away. But turning the other way brings an entirely different feeling—a lump rises in my throat, and my heart races slightly at the thought of the unknown depths and distance stretching out beneath and beyond me. The feeling can be so overwhelming that I lose track of time and space, reduced to the size of a spec within the vastness surrounding me. When I surrender to it, I dissolve into an entirely different universe. In this out-of-body experience, I’m reminded that I am more spirit than flesh. Then I pull myself back, urged by a mix of fear and responsibility, reminded that the only choice left is to return—but not without releasing some of the weight I carried—a transformation of sorts.

How can I describe an experience that resonates at a soulful level when so much of my life feels measured by practicality, shaped by the depths of others’ experiences or what they choose to reveal about themselves? As I grapple with the cultural idea that freedom lies in individuality and independence, I find myself swimming in the reality that true freedom may actually come through dependence—a freedom that is accompanied by a cost rather than one that I simply deserve. This brings me face-to-face with an internal conflict.

The word for 2024 is "Wild," and reflecting on its implications sent me into a panic. But then the word "love" emerged as a soothing anchor, connecting me to the source of all love. As I was called to take steps and then leaps of faith, I became aware of parts of myself I never knew existed, and miracles manifested that I could never have imagined. Then, layers that needed to be shed were revealed in God’s perfect timing.

Love has been my anchor, but my understanding of it has been entirely changed. Surrender and I have become close companions in recovery, yet I’ve never had to be so willing. In a year filled with abundance and overflow, nothing and no one was taken from me; I had to choose to let go. The reflection looking back at me asks, "Julie, Have you truly 'came to believe'?"

A haunting from the past emerged in my nightmares. Was I ever genuinely invited into my relationships, or was I merely there for my function—something to offer, someone to be consumed? A statement made to me many years ago echoes in my mind: "You are a lot to take in; most people can only handle you in small doses." Questioning my relationships now, I wonder if I was only permitted to have input, experience a semblance of vulnerability, and share life rather than really doing life together (both of us participating actively in each other's lives equally)? 

And now the deeper end of the question...Was I doing a version of this in my relationship with God? I can see hints of it as I began to view Him increasingly as the gatekeeper of all answers and guidance. I knew I needed Him, but more often than not, my prayers were aimed at seeking direction to feel secure in my circumstances, rather than finding my security in Him. 

It only took a short stroll down memory lane to retrace His fingers in all my protection and provision. And one question that I had been taught a few short years earlier...What makes me more dependent? 

I needed to approach that question with some trepidation, as it has previously led to spiritual whiplash. My relationship with God has been nothing short of wild up to this point, and now it feels emphasized, bolded, and italicized with the word for 2024.

There is overwhelming beauty and terror in this question (similar to being one with the water and the sky in the ocean). Because the direction can change at any given moment...creating a dependence in and of itself. A few examples:

Continuing a relationship or relinquishing it.

The job that requires more time and provides more money or the job that makes me financially unstable

Pinching pennies to save for retirement or investing in something now

Sacrificing to homeschool or trusting God with my children in public school.

{Insert any crossroads or intersection of life}

In any given season or sometimes any given moment what makes me more dependent can change. I had a year that I was given 3-4 different directions for one single issue. 

Why on Earth would I want to be more dependent? Because, although it is incredibly uncomfortable, I have chosen to be a citizen in that upside-down economy of God, where every other day can feel like opposite day. 

As I've been provoked, stirred up, and shaken by this wild year, what settled at the bottom of my overflowing cup has been revealed. I realized that my own version of vulnerability has enabled me to exhibit transparency and a semblance of authenticity without truly engaging or participating as fully as I could. I was not really "going there" like I thought I was. 

My ability to be dependable, trustworthy, and attached is directly connected to how much I rely on God, trust Him, and engage with Him—delving deep to receive His love. Today, I realized that when I explore that level of “known-ness,” it can be overwhelming, much like being in the ocean. I often find myself scrambling to escape the fear of exposure and the beauty of acceptance. Yet, when I lean into it, the experience is profoundly fulfilling, and I emerge transformed. (Something that I typically sum up as "operating out of an overflow rather than a deficit.")

The path that encourages my dependence carves a way through a relationship that moves me forward toward Him, even in the absence of answers. And, paradoxly, therein lies the answers. 

John 15:5, Galatians 3:3, Proverbs 3:5-6, Psalm 37:4, Mark 2:22, 2 Corinthians 5:17, James 1:5 and 1:17