The Unplanned Detour
It’s nothing like the new year that makes one contemplate the journey of the year. I found myself sitting in the airport thinking about the last time I was in this exact location. The last five months have been quite unorthodox. They have been unusually chaotic. They have been unexpected to say the least. The last five months have been tumultuous and I’ve had to ground my feet and forge into a strong person, a person of force, a person of bravery. Of course there were times where bravery seemed far from me. But I think on the outside, people could see the bravery.
"I may not have felt brave, but I was taking brave steps in obedience to God."
- Annie F. Downs, 100 Days to Brave
I don’t know that a detour is ever planned. We don’t plan to spend more time going around our intended route. We want the shorter route. We want the easier path. We want to make it from point A to point B with ease and few difficulties. But sometimes a detour is necessary to happen. And, unfortunately, this was the case for me.
My dad always says, “It is not an adventure unless you have to turn around at least once or twice.” It was his way of making up for getting lost or missing a turn. He also loved to take us on “short-cuts” when we traveled as a family. These “short-cuts” were anything but short. When asked where we were going, he would exclaim, “We are going on a short cut!” And my sister and I would groan in contempt. Because we knew better. We had been with our dad for many trips and knew that a short cut was anything but short. It was a long detour. Our dad was lost but attempted to make it sound like a grand adventure. It usually was a fun and interesting experience at the end of the detour. But when you are in the middle of such short cuts, you moan and groan because you don’t know when it is going to end or how it’s going to end. You do not know what is going to happen and it doesn’t always appear to be as fun in the moment.
I know God is in control. I know He has a plan. I know He has bright and good intentions for me that I’m unaware of at this time. He was taking me on a "short-cut" that I did not anticipate or plan. But again, faith is great in thought, but not always easy in practice. I’ve questioned God a lot in this. I've complained more than I'd like to admit. It doesn’t feel like He is in control or like He knows what He is doing. I stepped out in faith. Real tangible faith. I’ve done it my whole life. But it feels a lot different this time. I have been on many different transitions in my life. But this one feels different. It feels lonely. It feels strange. It feels terribly painful in its own way.
About a year ago, I started to pray for God's direction. I felt I needed to make a change. I was unsure about what the change was. I kept asking God about this change. An opportunity opened up for me to move to Seattle to begin a non-profit ministry. I wasn’t sure exactly how this would pan out. But I believed this was directly from the Lord, and it felt like it was a dream come true. So I chose to say "yes." I took a big leap of faith and began the journey across the country.
I was offered an amazing job, and I would have a few weeks to find a home and traveling arrangements to get to my new residence. I was burn out on ministry and I needed to have a different kind of job. I needed a job that was fulfilling and that wouldn’t come home with me. I desperately needed rest and healing. I think all of this is important. I knew I was burned out. I knew I was tired. I knew I needed healing and the ability to rediscover God, but I did not know how much until I landed into Seattle.
The second I landed into Seattle, everything fell apart like jello. I received word that my luggage was missing. Of course it is. I went to the Airbnb and got ready to just rest. I had been traveling all day with my puppy, and I knew there wasn't anything that I could do but rest.
Unfortunately, the troubles did not end there. The plan was to temporarily stay in the Airbnb until I could move into my new apartment with my new roommate. The apartment fell through, and the roommate also backed out. I had a car full of belongings and a dog with no place to live. I scrambled around to find a place to stay for the evening. That night I settled into that hotel room and I just sobbed. I cried out to the walls. I cried out to the empty room. I cried out to God. I cried that I didn’t know what this was, but I was out. I didn't think I could do this anymore. After this little cry fest, I tried to pick myself up for the next step.
I decided to text one of my best friends. She was just one of the few people that held the faith for me in this season. We need these kind of friends in our lives to help carry us when we can't carry ourselves. She is definitely one of the few people who showed me that I was braver than I knew. I reached out to her, and her response to me was “You completely upended your life and plopped yourself into a city you don’t know, where you don’t know anyone and you did it all on your own. It’s good, but it is a lot. As cliche as it sounds, I do believe Satan attacks those who are the biggest threat especially in situations where he can trick us into not recognizing it’s his handy work. As hard as it may feel don’t let this discourage you.”
This transition was definitely a difficult one, and I was very discouraged. I would need the faith of my friend in that moment and in every moment that followed. After a week of searching, I finally found an available apartment, and I moved in that weekend.
I moved into an empty apartment, thinking the emptiness would just be temporary. I quickly learned that wouldn't be the case. It turns out there are very few drivers who wanted to drive to Washington. Of course. At the time, I thought it would be at least 2 weeks. Instead my belongings would be delayed for 49 days (please know at the time I did not know it would be this long). 49 days should seem doable, but it was a difficult adjustment. I was forced to accept a rhythm of minimalism and simplicity. I would have to learn how to settle into this emptiness because it was sticking around like an uninvited guest.
I want to say I handled this part of the transition with grace and gentleness, but I don’t know if I can say that. I was reminded of the Israelites and the way they reacted to their transition. Has anyone on the face of the earth ever handled transition well? (I mean, maybe Queen Elizabeth because she is the most eloquent person I know.) A pastor spoke about difficult seasons and referred to the journey of the Israelites. He quoted, "The Israelites were ready to get to the Promised Land. They weren’t looking at the transition where God does His best work." We are so ready to get to our Promised Land, but we forget to look for God's promises in the transition. This hit me in the gut. I have listened and followed God to this place, ready for the "Promised Land" but I have been like the Israelites during the transition. I have not been looking at this transition as the place where God does His best work. The Israelites had excessive complaints. Yet their complaining wasn’t against the situation—it was against God. The encouragement was to look to God. To start looking for God’s provision—His goodness. We forget to look for God in the middle. We forget to see Him in our short cuts.
I learned to worship God in unique ways. I learned to be present even when I wanted to think about the future. I was in a place where I could only be present. I kept trying to take things into my own hands without truly seeking the Lord. My prayers were honest and raw because that was all they could be. I didn't have much left to give. There was an entire week that I did not journal or pray at all. It was difficult to find the words to connect with the Lord. I just learned to be present knowing, He hasn't left me. I learned to adjust to the quiet and empty space.
“We must put more faith in what we do know about God than in what we don’t know about the future.”Christine Caine
It was in this tough season that I had to learn how to keep the faith. But the way I kept the faith wasn’t just about declaring His truth or remembering His character. The way I learned to keep the faith was through the faith of my friends. Do you remember how the friends lowered their sick friend on a mat to Jesus for healing? That is what keeping the faith has meant for me. It has been me telling God I cannot do this anymore. It was me telling my friends that I needed them to keep the faith for me because I didn’t have it. For the first time in my life, I had a lack of faith. For the first time, I was unsure about ministry and God. I'm honestly still working through this. More importantly, I was unsure about my life and what I wanted to do. I always had a plan and now I didn’t. I could take the next step—but that is about all that I could do.
As I entered into this season of transition, I had this picture from the Holy Spirit. I kept this picture with me on the hardest days. I was sitting on a sailboat and on every turn there’s a wind, a turbulent wind that attempts to shake me. I weather the storm and think through the next step. In the middle of the storm, I look and I see Jesus.
Steady. Stable. No fear in His eyes.
He is still driving the boat. He is still in control. He is leading and guiding everything. He is sailing and weathering every storm. I can sleep on the boat. I can rest. I can be still. He is not leaving. He is with me and He is my anchor. I may have not been able to voice eloquent prayers to the Lord. But this I could declare:
He is with me and He is my Anchor.