But with the wind of change blowing in, I find myself resistant to the whole thing. I am a gal who hates change. I am a planner. I like being comfortable and I like knowing what to expect. And yet, as a believer, I find myself wondering if I have any right to be comfortable. Do I have any right to ask God to "please leave me as I am"? Because, truthfully, that's not what we sign-up for when we ask Him to live in us. When we give him access to our hearts, his intent is to radically refine us. I would dare say that as Christians, our lives were not meant to be comfortable.
Still, the selfish part of me is resisting the change happening all around me. I am trying to just trust in the Lord and be grateful for his provision. But if I am being honest, I've had moments throughout these recent days where I just want to shake my fists and cry out that this is not fair. That the plan I had in my head for my life, for my family, is being shaken. That nobody asked me if this was okay. That I am not, in fact, okay with all of this.
One of my best friends here in Mobile has been praying with me throughout these last few days. (Can I just pause here and say how grateful I am for my girlfriends? Particularly this one. Thank God for friends who don't just pray for you, but with you. In person. Over the phone. Any time of day. When I think of her and a few of my other girlfriends, I am reminded how hard it is to find those types of friends. The ones that go far beyond just having things in common. They are the friends who I can't wait to spend an eternity with in Heaven, sipping coffee--because there WILL be coffee in heaven--and enjoying the fulfillment of His promises together. She's the friend who I always think of when I read Proverbs 18:4 "A person's words can be life-giving water; words of true wisdom are as refreshing as a bubbling brook." I love you Kelli!)
Anyways, so she sent me a text this morning encouraging me and also telling me to take a look at the July 13th entry for Streams In The Desert. It was bang on and exactly what I needed:
"The moment has come when you must get off the perch of distrust, out of the nest of seeming safety, and onto the wings of faith; just such a time as comes to the bird when it must begin to try the air. It may seem as though you must drop to the earth; so it may seem to the fledgling. It, too, may feel very like falling; but it does not fall--it's pinions give it support, or, if they fail, the parent birds sweeps under and bears it upon its wings. Even so will God bear you. Only trust Him; "thou shalt be holden up." "Well, but," you say, "am I to cast myself upon nothing?" That is what the bird seems to have to do; but we know the air is there, and the air is not so unsubstantial as it seems. And you know the promises of God are there, and they are not unsubstantial at all. "
And so it seems that the time has come to get out of the nest of safety. As scared and resistant as I am, I don't want to miss being a part of what God is doing. He is blowing a new wind, and the tides are changing. And I find myself wanting my sail to catch His wind. To blow where he blows. Because, after all, his promises are not unsubstantial at all.
It's in these transition times that I know the Father moves; he takes His hand from one thing and places it on another. And I am trying, really truly trying, to find the joy in transitioning with Him and to recognize the ending of one season and to lean into the beauty of the next.
