Adventure Afoot

God is up to something, that is for certain. In my weariness today, I was challenged to run to Him with much larger questions than the ones I've currently been asking about where I'm going to live as of next week.

"What are you doing in the future?" The question came from a trusted source.
I responded quickly, "What? I don't know... Like what am I 'doing'?"
"Yes..."

I next uttered words that have been in my heart, but wondering how practical those realities sound when spoken aloud. Intangible 'somethings' and purely thoughts at the moment, but I think they're formulating into something very real. This idea has been mulled over and prayed about and questioned in my own mind and heart for nearly three years. I'm asking it again; in a way, it's exhilarating. Yet in another, terrifying. Mostly because it's not just that I've considered it, but others have, and in increasing numbers, over the course of those years.

"What if ... ?" -- I wonder.

Making a decision of this magnitude in the way of releasing the hope for home, to be ready for whatever might be, is stirring a deeper contemplation in my soul today...

And I ask, "Will You go with me, Lord?"
If He does, then I can do anything.
I can do absolutely anything.

The larger questions at stake are these:

Will I open these palms and relinquish my ideas of what this needs to look like to free fall into His plans for me?

Do I really want what is great, what is LIFE, so badly that I refuse to settle for my version of comfort and safety?

Will I choose to hope in Him, not in the things I can see and control?

Do I trust His heart and that He has good in store for me (good beyond what I could dream up in my frailness and need and poor imaginations)?

Will I truly allow Him to be my home, my place of safety and my refuge?

You can pray for me. Meanwhile, I'm going to walk this path with Him. I think this is the most significant decision I can make in this season of my life--at least as I'm able to view it today.

P.A.I.N.

"Pain is one of the fastest routes to a no-frills encounter with the Holy, and yet the majority of us do everything in our power to avoid it."

--Barbara Brown Taylor, An Altar in the World

Boy is she right. How often do I run, no sprint, from anything that hurts? The answer, if I'm honest: daily. Every day I have an opportunity to engage with something in my life that aches--sometimes I choose into the reality that it's truly better to deal with it and other days I don't. Yesterday was one of those days where I determined to dive in.

I've been sad about a few things in my life recently. Newer pieces of pain have only served to bring to light years of that same hurt that have acted as the building blocks making the fresh object seem even larger and more important. I decided to sit in the stuff in the early evening and pulled my turquoise journal from my bag, carefully laying the pages open to an empty slot. As I began to write about desire, my emotions went from numbness, to grief, then on to anger. I raged at the Lord for a few minutes, verbally spewing the truth at Him--the literal truth from His very own mouth--and felt my disgust rise.

Guilt permeated my soul as I did so, but God gently reminded me that He could handle it. I wept in my bitterness. Knowing that I had yet another choice in moving forward, I grabbed my Bible and turned to a familiar, yet dusty book. Song of Songs. Strange to read this book on love when I was feeling as I was, but I read it through (even the footnotes). After that, I turned to I Corinthians 13 and read about love there, too. 

Softened, I returned to the pages of my journal and reached back out to the Lord. Ultimately, nothing was resolved in this endeavor, but I did recognize something vitally important: He is who He says He is, therefore I must trust. It is not simply an option, or a nice notion, or a thing to pacify the pain. He is real. His love is true. And even in the longing, some things do not change. He does not waver. He wants all of me. Right now, that feels mean.

Suffering from a bit of an emotional hangover today, I acknowledged in the weariness that He is kind. And, if I want a real relationship with Him, this is the type of encounter that I need to embrace more often. I just wish it didn't hurt so much... But then again, don't we all...

Change Happens

I like change. Actually, yes, it’s true—I’m one of those people. Perhaps it’s the feeling of constantly being in motion toward an adventure of sorts or a necessary variety I require that leads me there regularly. I think life would be rather boring if things always remained the same. All of that said, over the past decade I’ve learned that while I welcome, even need change, I must have ample opportunity to process big adjustments. In fact, understanding that has brought tremendous freedom to my life--and likely those in or around my life. Before I knew this, I never ‘got’ why I’m so quick on my feet with most decisions, but needed major time to deliberate (mostly with myself) other considerations. 

Today, my friends and I learned that we have to move. Our landlord decided to move back into the house for a variety of reasons which is completely acceptable; the only thing is, I’d asked him numerous times over the past several months what his thoughts were on reissuing a lease. He kept putting me off (maybe he really didn’t know) and I continued to wonder. Prior to moving here, I negotiated contracts on a regular basis so when he continued to be non-committal, I felt very unsettled. Now I know why. Call it a hunch or that I felt it in my gut, but here we are thirty days out and in need of a home.

Beyond that simple reality, I’m disappointed. I love this house, neighborhood, the access I have to people and things to do nearby. I love the relationships I’ve built here and the ability to quickly connect with friends who live within minutes. I’ve viewed this as a place to minister and reach out—it has become that in more ways than I can count. I love how my furniture fits here and the way that we are in the middle of everything, but had tremendous privacy. It sounds sappy, I know, but it was like a dream come true to live here—truly, my very own version of “Cheers”—I’d longed for a place like this since I lived in Boston and what a sweet gift it has been.

It’s not to say that we won’t find another place in the neighborhood or within close proximity. If we did, I’d be thrilled. That, too, is not a guarantee, but even if it turned out that way, one truth remains: it won’t be this place; it will be different. Things are changing. In fact, as I processed some of these thoughts with one of my roommates today, she said, “It is a big deal. You didn’t choose this…” Such a simple truth… I didn’t choose this, rather, it was chosen for me. I guess that’s what is making it harder. 

Maybe that’s why the tears came when I forced myself out of the house to pick up a couple of things at Target. Tears welled on the drive there, I mostly kept them at bay in the store, but the dam broke on the way home. I bawled. Not just a dribble, but the kind of sobbing where you make the weird wheezy breath noises (and I have a hefty head-cold to boot—pretty, huh?).  I told the Lord how sad I am and about my disappointment. I also told Him that I trust Him. He knew this was going to happen. He knows where we’re going to end up and I know that He’s good in this place. I’m just really, really sad.

As all of this was unfolding, I realized that part of the reason I’m sad is because I planted myself here—in this house, in this neighborhood. I’ve always loved that passage in Jeremiah 29 when the Lord tells the children of Israel to settle into life where they’re at—build houses, settle down, plant gardens, marry, have kids, work for the good of the cities (and they’re in captivity!). He wants them to live where He’s placed them. I guess I’ve done that again here—settled in, made this home. Somehow it doesn’t lessen the pain of being uprooted. And, that’s where I’m walking by faith tonight. Ready to be replanted wherever He deems best in thirty days or less … Here we go…