Oh, California…

Sunday, September 9th, 2017
Sitting in the office in Calvary. There’s a strange bittersweetness in the air as everyone tries to put a brave face on. We meet in the cracks, connecting on the level of being terrified as anything, but determined to thrive, even if we don’t know how. A few people know that Jonny and I are heavily considering moving to California early this November, that it’s growing increasingly certain. I hide in the office because I feel fragile. As much as I know church is the place the weak ones can come to, I shy away from showing my frailty. Once again, I want to be strong, to be the shoulder for everyone else trying to figure out what life will look like and what the Lord is doing here. I want to suck it up, get out of my own self-focused head. Once again, I can’t. Because I’m human, and so are you. 

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Photo by Daniel on Unsplash

Mingled with the bizarreness heralding the oncoming change is the intoxicating joy of what’s to come. However all the expectation hangs on a hook shaped like a question mark. What if we can’t find jobs? I’ve never worked in the “real world” before; what if I fail? What if we’re hearing the Lord’s voice wrong, despite all the confirmations? What were those confirmations again? While the Lord’s peace rings in my bones regarding each of these “ifs,” I’d be lying if I claimed I could feel it right now.

I want to tell you something I normally would in one of these posts: that I remind myself God is in control, pick myself up, and get back to work. It would be another lie. Instead I’m forced to tell you the truth that I am sleep deprived, hormonal, insecure and confused, and all I want is a cozy, grey knit blanket of practical answers. But show me someone who doesn’t feel this way. 

The Lord guards the inexperienced; I was helpless, and He saved me. Return to your rest, my soul, for the Lord has been good to you. For You, Lord, rescued me from death, my eyes from tears, my feet from stumbling.
– Psalm 116:6-8 –

Wednesday, September 20th, 2017
Power and water were restored to the house yesterday, so tonight we move back to the apartment. I struggle to call it “home,” since soon home will be changing. Overall, my circumstances haven’t altered. Homework is still looming (in a tab behind this one which I am determinedly pretending not to see), true slumber has yet to grace me with his presence, and answers to Sunday’s questions haven’t been given, but the pervasive peace of Christ floods my bloodstream. One step at a time. Today’s step involves writing this, completing my homework, and hurricane cleanup. Tomorrow’s will be different. But tomorrow is not today, and maybe the tension is not something we’re meant to run from, but rather grow through. It is time for a fresh season.

When asked why we are moving, I can only supply the answer “Because God told us to,” as that is the only complete reason He has given us.  Once confirmed, sometimes that’s all you need. I think often we get caught thinking about all the fallen trees that could block our path, unaware that the journey will teach the strength to climb over them. Perhaps that’s why He’s planned this specific journey we are on for this specific season. Everything is preparation for something else. 

We don’t know where this road will take us. All we know is that we felt the call, God confirmed it both to us and our leaders, and now it’s time to go. To stay would be to turn this beautiful castle into our prison. Instead, we lean into this unexpected turn, understanding that this season will be about a deeper dependence on God. It’s time to run further up and further into His magnificent plan for our lives. What’s your next step? 

I will plant cedars in the desert, acacias, myrtles, and olive trees. I will put juniper trees in the desert, elms and cypress trees together, so that all may see and know, consider and understand, that the hand of the Lord has done this, the Holy One of Israel has created it.
– Isaiah 41:18 –

Until next time,
XOXO

 

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