What I know, and what I thought I knew . . .

While purging closets, boxes, and cabinets in this moving process, I am also organizing my writing files. It is hilarious to me how often I have confidently written about transitions in the last decade. It’s almost as if I allude to some sense of mastery that I’ve gained. I flinch when I hear that tone, remembering the undoing of the last few months. I read through files that have only and ever lived on my hard drive, and some of the words minister to me deeply. The declarations about God’s providence and presence with us in detours soak into my soul. I affirm them with a resounding “YES!” as I have seen His generous kindness in the handful of weeks we have lived in the “new.” However, some of my statements about myself are too bold and too confident. I sit here more sober as I read them, and more humbled. Here is an excerpt . . .

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I’ve had a handful of transitions in my adult life. I can’t compete with military families, but ministry families can be a close second in their number of moves. My growing-up years were in direct contrast to this--one home, one bedroom (two bedrooms if you count when my brother and I, along with an ambitious babysitter switched our rooms one time while my mom was at work). The place was HOME in every sense of the word. Married life has brought with it ten addresses in four geographical moves in twenty-plus years. I was not skillful in packing and moving; I am much better now. I also made friends with the discomfort that comes from being new---putting yourself out there, and making the effort to connect in the beginning because you know your life depends on it. Leaning into those new connections to find out the essential information about the community. “Where do I go for this? Where do I want to avoid? Where is the urgent care and the best coffee shop and the dry cleaners?” I remember the ache for “home” and longing to feel settled. It doesn’t come for quite some time, but being content in the process would’ve been so helpful. It will come eventually. Keep trying and putting one foot in front of the other. Community and connection grow eventually. It would’ve been helpful to put down the stopwatch on that process. 

            As my oldest daughter is on the edge of launch and transition (which includes another major transition for me that doesn’t involve an address change), I lean into these thoughts and truths that I have learned in my transitions. You will see what bubbles up out of your heart so quickly when all the trappings of comfort and “normal” are gone. You will find out if your anchor holds, or if there was no anchor to begin with and you grasp for anything that comes your way. In the extra space that disorientation and loneliness give you, I encourage you to cling to what may sound like a platitude, until you realize it is the only truth that matters . . . He is there. He is there in that dorm room. He is in that pew as you sit alone trying to find a community of faith. He is with you as you start that new job and eat your lunch by yourself in the break room. He is with you as you eat with new friends, while your heart is aching for your old friends.

            If I could convince you of anything that would mitigate fear and push back the dread about going where you haven’t been before, I would tell you this: you will see His goodness in the new place. You will see something about God that you couldn’t see staying where you are. It’s essential for your growth and your faith. As one of my exercise trainers used to say, “Get comfortable with being uncomfortable!” This discomfort leads to an opportunity to mature in our faith. He will show Himself vibrant and faithful, He will show you he is at work wherever you are, and He is pursuing every heart around you. Go with Him! Walk with Him! Find Him first, and then the grocery store, favorite coffee shop, and favorite take-out.  “Seek first the Kingdom of God, and all these things will be added unto you . . .” Matthew 6:33.

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I have been saying “yes” to lots of things in the spirit of meeting people and getting connected because when you are new, your life does depend on it. These people have loved us with “small-town love,”. . . which means fresh eggs delivered to our door a few days ago, some beef from a farmer to put in our freezer, and Matt has yet to pay for a haircut. These are just a few of the things that bless my heart as the new pastor’s family. Claire’s stories of her new school have me hanging on every word at the end of each school day. I’m grateful for the words, “Mom, I don’t hate it.” I’ll take that for now.

Here is what I can say boldly as we finish the first month of “new”:

*His providence covers the big and little details. I have more than a handful of “oh, wow” stories that display His stunning generosity and tender kindness toward us.

*His presence is EVERYTHING. In Exodus 33, we see God send Moses and the Israelites on to the Promised Land. Moses wants to be assured that God’s presence is going with them, otherwise, Moses doesn’t want to go. “Not without you!” Yes, Lord, not without you.

*My trust in God to care for my tribe is growing. I affirm that He knows better and loves more fiercely than me. I wince at discomfort or pain for my husband and my daughters. But I trust that the emptying and discomfort I see them going through has growth in it that can’t come any other way.

*People are people. They want to be loved, they want to know Jesus more and want to love Him better. They want to be led by someone who loves them. They have needs and burdens—health, finances, family, loneliness, frustrations, and failures. They are universal . . . whether in small-town Oklahoma or one of the largest cities in the country. People are people. God is God. How wonderful that He works everywhere and is moving all things to a predetermined end, where His Name is lifted high and the Kingdom is advanced.

I want to declare what I can declare about Him loudly and boldly! And maybe I’ll soften what I “declare” about me or where I am in my growth. Think about the things that you can declare about Him because you KNOW them experientially. And what do you need to “back it up” on—where you thought you were strong and confident--but you see now your knees are a little wobbly and there is room for growth? What a Good Shepherd He is, to welcome us back when we wander off ignorantly and arrogantly, thinking we have mastery in something that we don’t. And He invites us to come re-group in a spirit of grace and mercy and re-orient with Him. “Prone to wander, Lord, I feel it . . .” What a good, good Father He is.