The Plan
I had a plan.
It was all worked out in my head; such a pretty painting of a picture and I knew, just knew it was a good good plan.
It involved a little 1974 time capsule of a bungalow across the street from the pool and in need of a bunch of love and even more wallpaper stripper.
It involved my kids attending the same school as their parents and grandparents and even great grandparents.
And friendships rooted in deep, rich soil. The church where I once walked down the aisle as The Bride, in a town whose phone book dedicates a whole page to people with the same last name as me.
True, I had no idea how long the plan would last...it didn't seem to carry the permanence of forever...we found ourselves somehow dodging the "how long are you here?" questions and mumbling something about "waiting and listening," but truth be told, it felt like the right step for now. For a time. Until He called us back to Hawaii maybe?
It was a good good plan.
And then in those hot last days of July I found myself sitting at the table with my husband, tears spilling into my coffee cup as we talked about a new plan; How did the conversation even start?
So we prayed and I cried and we prayed, and I tried to put my foot down but it just wouldn't go. And I prayed and I pleaded and I reasoned and I tried to dream big and think long term. We drafted mental pro and con lists that dissected the innards of our faith, family and future ministry goals. We talked about what we need versus what we want and what He wants from us and then we stopped and stared incredulously at the way the scale was tipping in a direction we had never expected. I tried saying no, I kicked and screamed and gave in to my flesh time and time again in straining against the covenant of one-ness that demands the sacrifice of my own-ness...
I felt like the rope in some cruel tug of war, as though I had to choose between the people I loved, like my decision wielded the power to make one person's dream come true all while breaking the heart of another. I was sick to my stomach most days. I walked in fear of man rather than fear of God and I resented others for ruining my good good plan.
I surrendered, and then I fought and then I laid it all down only to pick it all back up again...and I rode this dizzying merry-go-round day after day after exhausting, tear-filled day.
In my hubris, the one so common to man(read ME), I asked The Lord, "What about all I had planned to do for you here? The ways I would serve you and solve your problems and save this place?"
Do you know His own answer came as a question, weighted with the loving kindness that never fails to bring me back to sweet repentance...
That's when the merry-go-round stopped and I could see the tug-of-war for what it truly was:
A choice between my comfort or my character. The easy road, or the one less travelled. A chance to live either a neatly scripted life fully under my own design and control...Or one carved out day by day through desperate trust in Him. The difference between good...or great.
Also, I saw it as an answer. An answer to a year of prayers, asking Him to continue peeling away layers in me that don't resemble Jesus. Offering Him our family wherever He wanted in the task of bringing Him glory.
You see...I'm a coward. Left to my own devices I would always choose the easier road, the comfortable choice, the known path. But somewhere deep down I LONG to live a life of abandon; taking every opportunity to step outside that comfort zone and test the limits of where HE might take me. To say "Yes" to Him and "No" to self. To do His will: which is simply to bring Him glory.
I've seen the blessing that kind of obedience brings and now I'm spoiled for the ordinary so to speak.
Thus, after about 26 days I took a deep breath and nodded. We packed in a hurry and cried together and reminded ourselves about that scale that had tipped so decidedly.
I can't tell you that my selfishness died in that instant, or that the temper tantrums ceased, or that I finally felt deep down the rightness of the decision. None of that happened. I simply vowed to choose faith over fear, listen to my head over my heart and desire character over comfort. And we headed out on a twelve hour journey west: two cars packed full of kids and sleeping bags and overnight bags.
It happened so fast. I barely had time to explain myself, to hug those I loved, to apologize for walking away. To make assurances that it's not them...it's not even me. It's just always HIM.
So here I sit. One month later, camped out on an unknown floor, in an unknown house, in a town I once knew as a university student. I've left my beloved Three Hills once again. This time I haven't crossed an ocean, only the rocky mountains, but somehow it feels even farther away. It's weighted with permanence. I don't know how to explain the feelings I'm sorting out: panic, excitement, peace, anger, hurt, joy...and the roller coaster doesn't stop there. I don't know how life will look here, where my favorite coffee mug ended up or even when the truck carrying all our earthly possessions will arrive. I don't know much other than this:
HE has a plan. Mine may have been good. But I believe one thing with all that I am.
His is great.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
It was all worked out in my head; such a pretty painting of a picture and I knew, just knew it was a good good plan.
It involved a little 1974 time capsule of a bungalow across the street from the pool and in need of a bunch of love and even more wallpaper stripper.
It involved my kids attending the same school as their parents and grandparents and even great grandparents.
And friendships rooted in deep, rich soil. The church where I once walked down the aisle as The Bride, in a town whose phone book dedicates a whole page to people with the same last name as me.
True, I had no idea how long the plan would last...it didn't seem to carry the permanence of forever...we found ourselves somehow dodging the "how long are you here?" questions and mumbling something about "waiting and listening," but truth be told, it felt like the right step for now. For a time. Until He called us back to Hawaii maybe?
It was a good good plan.
And then in those hot last days of July I found myself sitting at the table with my husband, tears spilling into my coffee cup as we talked about a new plan; How did the conversation even start?
So we prayed and I cried and we prayed, and I tried to put my foot down but it just wouldn't go. And I prayed and I pleaded and I reasoned and I tried to dream big and think long term. We drafted mental pro and con lists that dissected the innards of our faith, family and future ministry goals. We talked about what we need versus what we want and what He wants from us and then we stopped and stared incredulously at the way the scale was tipping in a direction we had never expected. I tried saying no, I kicked and screamed and gave in to my flesh time and time again in straining against the covenant of one-ness that demands the sacrifice of my own-ness...
I felt like the rope in some cruel tug of war, as though I had to choose between the people I loved, like my decision wielded the power to make one person's dream come true all while breaking the heart of another. I was sick to my stomach most days. I walked in fear of man rather than fear of God and I resented others for ruining my good good plan.
I surrendered, and then I fought and then I laid it all down only to pick it all back up again...and I rode this dizzying merry-go-round day after day after exhausting, tear-filled day.
In my hubris, the one so common to man(read ME), I asked The Lord, "What about all I had planned to do for you here? The ways I would serve you and solve your problems and save this place?"
Do you know His own answer came as a question, weighted with the loving kindness that never fails to bring me back to sweet repentance...
What if this next step is not about what you can do FOR ME...but what I am going to do IN YOU?
That's when the merry-go-round stopped and I could see the tug-of-war for what it truly was:
A choice between my comfort or my character. The easy road, or the one less travelled. A chance to live either a neatly scripted life fully under my own design and control...Or one carved out day by day through desperate trust in Him. The difference between good...or great.
Also, I saw it as an answer. An answer to a year of prayers, asking Him to continue peeling away layers in me that don't resemble Jesus. Offering Him our family wherever He wanted in the task of bringing Him glory.
You see...I'm a coward. Left to my own devices I would always choose the easier road, the comfortable choice, the known path. But somewhere deep down I LONG to live a life of abandon; taking every opportunity to step outside that comfort zone and test the limits of where HE might take me. To say "Yes" to Him and "No" to self. To do His will: which is simply to bring Him glory.
I've seen the blessing that kind of obedience brings and now I'm spoiled for the ordinary so to speak.
Thus, after about 26 days I took a deep breath and nodded. We packed in a hurry and cried together and reminded ourselves about that scale that had tipped so decidedly.
I can't tell you that my selfishness died in that instant, or that the temper tantrums ceased, or that I finally felt deep down the rightness of the decision. None of that happened. I simply vowed to choose faith over fear, listen to my head over my heart and desire character over comfort. And we headed out on a twelve hour journey west: two cars packed full of kids and sleeping bags and overnight bags.
It happened so fast. I barely had time to explain myself, to hug those I loved, to apologize for walking away. To make assurances that it's not them...it's not even me. It's just always HIM.
So here I sit. One month later, camped out on an unknown floor, in an unknown house, in a town I once knew as a university student. I've left my beloved Three Hills once again. This time I haven't crossed an ocean, only the rocky mountains, but somehow it feels even farther away. It's weighted with permanence. I don't know how to explain the feelings I'm sorting out: panic, excitement, peace, anger, hurt, joy...and the roller coaster doesn't stop there. I don't know how life will look here, where my favorite coffee mug ended up or even when the truck carrying all our earthly possessions will arrive. I don't know much other than this:
HE has a plan. Mine may have been good. But I believe one thing with all that I am.
His is great.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
Comments
Nikki
That is where I finally quit saying 'NO! NO! NO!' to what I was reading. Thank you for your honest heart, honest writing. Thank you for listening to God. I look forward to hearing more and seeing what God will bring to your family in the days to come. Praying for God's peace, for His love to shelter your family today and in the days ahead.