Oh hello, little blog of mine, and friends who read it. It’s been a minute. I have so much to catch you up on, I scarcely know where to begin. If your life has been going anything like mine, the word transition has come up a lot, a whole lot. Let me tell you a few things about transition. It’s scary, it’s lonely, it’s full of doubt, and so full to overflowing with beauty.
First, it’s scary. I’ve been praying for several months about leaving my job and in seeking God about my future, the more I prayed, the more I felt the grace begin to lift slowly, like a sunrise over a countryside. It’s like one minute there was only inky black darkness and in a wisp of a blink, there was light, and the grace to be one place was gone like the night, and suddenly it was morning and bursting through all my midnight questions was my Father saying–I’m doing a new thing! I bring light and new life–are you with me, daughter? Are you ready to make the jump?
So I said yes.
The thing about transition is that it always feels like you’re jumping off a cliff into utter darkness and complete uncertainty. Because I am not omniscient, I am overcome with questions. Where will I work? How will serve orphans? Will people think I have failed? Am I just copping out because my job is hard? The questions pour in like rain and I feel the night closing in, and I don’t think it can get any darker. God’s voice is far away in the deep, and I wonder if he knows what he’s doing. Transition is scary.
And then I open my Bible, and read of Martha, mourning her brother’s death. In John 11, she runs to Jesus, frantic. This was not what she planned. If only Jesus had been there, maybe they wouldn’t be in this situation. Sometimes, many times, I am Martha. I ask God if he was there when I was writing out my five year plan because excuse ME but we are way off the mark here. And then Jesus asks me something like what he asked Martha. Did I not tell you that if you believed you would see the glory of God?
That makes me think that maybe a long time ago Jesus and Martha had a conversation and Martha said she wanted to see the glory of God and she wanted him to use her.
She was probably envisioning great exploits, not the death of her brother. But Jesus often chooses our most vulnerable places to come in and surprise us with his resurrection life and grace.
Leaving my job at the adoption agency was not mournful like the death a loved one, but it was an end, and not one I could have predicted so soon. I find myself leaning into Him and I choose to trust, because He knows me and he knows the future.
Transition is lonely. It involves a departure before an entrance. Sometimes we have to leave one place so we can figure out where to go on our next adventure. Sometimes that involves being alone for a bit while we sort things out. I’m learning to put my trust in Jesus, not in my plans, because y’all, plans change.
There are some plans I’ve made over the past year and they are good plans with good people. And things are not going according to plan. Everything that seemed so good and true and right is not going the way I surely thought it would, and I’m being invited to trust the people I love, but more importantly, the God I love. I am fighting questions like “Well if it doesn’t happen by this day with person in this way, is it ever going to happen? God, are you sure you’ve got this because I feel so alone!”
Transition beckons us to ask questions like “God, do you really know me? Did you remember when I told you I wanted this thing really bad? Are you really going to make me do this? Am I going to have to move a million miles away and be single forever in order for you to be happy with me?”
Dramatic, yes, but I think we often doubt God’s intelligence. We think we know ourselves better than He does, and we doubt our lives will be as good as we thought we could make them. Because once we take that leap into the seeming darkness, we have lost control. Our story is His story. Our life becomes his canvas and his dreams become the paint. It’s a death to self and a birth to the fullness of joy which is only born in complete surrender.
It’s funny; we think we are jumping from the safety of day into the mystery of night, but I think it’s the other way around. We are leaping from the dark and misty futility of our own thinking into the glorious, beautiful, incomprehensible light only found in Jesus.
Transition is exciting. It often means meeting new people and doing new things, which I am definitely doing as I pursue my writing more seriously and work in my mom’s office as her new assistant. It doesn’t all have to be dark and twisty, but it’s definitely a walk of faith. I am thankful I am not walking alone.
Friends, He knows us better than we know ourselves. He is writing an epic story, much more epic than our version, and he remembers every little tiny thing we ever told him. And the best thing of all? Not only does he know know us completely, but he searches us like a lover pursues his bride. He created us but still he pursues us, searches us, invites us, embraces us, surprises us. Oh, he is good to me.
So, that’s my update. I’m on a new adventure and I don’t know how it’s going to turn out, but I’ll keep you posted. 🙂