God Moves in a Mysterious Way

Just waiting to see how...

God moves in a mysterious way
His wonders to perform;
He plants His footsteps in the sea
And rides upon the storm.

Deep in unfathomable mines

Of never failing skill
He treasures up His bright designs
And works His sovereign will.

Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take;
The clouds ye so much dread
Are big with mercy and shall break
In blessings on your head.

Judge not the Lord by feeble sense,
But trust Him for His grace;
Behind a frowning providence
He hides a smiling face.

His purposes will ripen fast,

Unfolding every hour;
The bud may have a bitter taste,
But sweet will be the flower.

Blind unbelief is sure to err
And scan His work in vain;
God is His own interpreter,
And He will make it plain.

-William Cowper

Enough

Enough.

Do I really know what that word means?  Have I ever had just enough? 


Compared to 99% of the world, I've always had more than enough. A lot more. 

Then why is enough so hard?

It hit me while shopping at Safeway a few months ago. I was getting all anxious, pacing up and down the cereal aisle. I already had cereal at home, but I couldn't just have only one kind of cereal to choose from, could I?

Where did this voice come from? Who said I could not be satisfied with one lonely box of cereal sitting on my refrigerator? Who said my happiness hinged on Raisin Bran vs. Special K vs. Honey Bunches of Oats?

Once I had this epiphany,  I felt a little bit foolish for worrying about cereal, and finished filling my cart with the things I was actually out of at home.

The more I thought about it though, the more I realized that a theology of "enough" would completely turn my world upside down. Beyond cereal. 

I'm convinced God only intended for us to have "enough." Any more, and we get all cocky and self-sufficient. Why would He give the Israelites just enough manna for each day? Why would He lead them through the wilderness with a cloud by day, and fire by night, instead of giving them the whole list of turn-by-turn directions? Why would Jesus pray "give us this day our daily bread..." if we needed any more than that? Or say "sufficient for the day is its own trouble."

It's hard right now, to say that I have enough.

I want a job.
I want a husband.
I want to move out.
I want new dreams.
I want plans.
I want to "move on" with my life.
I want backpacking in mountains with crisp air, clear streams, wildflowers, and the most stars ever seen.

But can I say this...flat, windy, humid northwest Ohio... is...enough?

I have parents that want to provide for me in their home.
I have friends that know me better than I know myself.
I've been re-crossing paths with people I never would have imagined.
I get espresso every morning.
I cuddle my fluffy white dog.
We share dinner on the back patio.
I grow columbines and wild daisies on my window sill.
I admire orange ditch lilies along country roads.
I bike through winding dirt trails under canopies of green.
I splash in muddy river water.
I ponder in wide open spaces.
I drink in pink sunsets.

It's an hourly battle to believe that yes, this is truly enough.

And what it comes down to is this: Is God Himself, enough? Whether He gives me what I want, or not?

A Call.

The idea of calling has been heavily on my radar for the past few months. This search for an overarching, all-encompassing life purpose. Something worth living and dying for. A part to play in this bigger story we are all acting out. The funny thing is, though, the more I've searched for it outside myself, the more I've realized it's right in front of me. Or inside me.

 It's a call to Jesus. From Jesus. He calls me to Himself. It's also a call to my neighbor, that is, whoever I cross paths with. My family, my friends, the cashier at the grocery store, fellow coffee-drinkers at Starbucks. My call is simply to love. I need no greater cause. Love is enough.

But is it? I must admit, that there is so much of me that craves thrill and adventure. I want to be a heroine.  To change the world. Which is precisely what the early Church did. But it wasn't because they set out to start a revolution. The ever-quotable C. S. Lewis said, "You can’t get second things by putting them first. You get second things only by putting first things first.” Paul, Peter, John...they were simply men consumed with Jesus Himself. It just so happened that as they followed His lead some radical things happened. 

Culture says we have to create our own meaning, write our own story, leave our mark on the world. The odd thing about Jesus is that He calls me to let go of all of those things, to trust that the Story He is writing is far greater than anything that I could conceive. He calls me to be a supporting actress rather than the lead. To just be His friend and walk through life moment by moment. Which is actually incredibly freeing. Upside-down, backwards, yes. But it's simple. More simple than trying to make a life for myself. 

A call to Jesus. A call to People. For the cause of Love. Can it be enough? 

I lived in Colorado for nine months.

I fell in love with purple mountains, red rocks, clear blue skies, liturgy, bluegrass music, and the Church.

And really, I knew so little of love until I came face to face with Love Himself. 

Colorado firsts.

• Hiked a 14-er
• Went camping under a million stars
• Snowshoed
• Became a member of a church and ordained as a layperson 
• Decorated an apartment
• Cooked "real food" for myself 
• Flew home for the holidays
• Pulled an all-nighter... at Waffle House
• Counseled real people
• Went to counseling
• Embraced silence
• Got in touch with my emotional side
• Played music as art instead of work 
• Met with God on the side of a mountain
• Valued "being" over "doing"
• Resisted multi-tasking
• Started a movement
• Found life and beauty in the rhythm of  the church calendar
• Saw Aradhna in concert 
• Became a social Buckeye fan
• Went ice-skating outside in downtown Denver
• Discovered "dirty chai" (chai+espresso shot mm.) 
• Found out how much I like avacados 
• Practiced gratitude
• Found happiness in cleaning, folding laundry, and cooking 
• Learned to receive without giving anything in return
• Yelled at God and wrestled with Him and realized He could handle it
• Drove through the mountains to see the aspens in fall 
• Experienced weather more extreme than OH: sunny and 75 on Monday, a foot of snow on Wednesday
• Overcame fear of speaking my mind and heart
• Stopped hating and berating myself 
• Accepted myself as a gift from God
• Found God's glory in His people
• Let go of a dream
• Found the Joy of surrender
• Lived... just lived. 

Scary.

Ya know what's scary about prayer?

Sometimes, God answers it.

If you tell Him you want to stop treasuring control, He will wrestle it right out of your tightly-clenched fists.

If you tell Him you want to live present to Him, He might take away all you knew of your future.

If you tell Him you want to understand grace, He'll put you in a place where you can't do anything but receive.

If you tell Him you want to depend on Him completely, He'll knock everything else out from under your feet.

If you tell Him you want to live in surrender, He will carry you to the altar.

Scary? Yes.
Good? Absolutely. 

So, after a long, prayerful process, guided by mentors, filled with encouragement of friends from all over, I've decided to leave Denver Seminary and the counseling program after this semester, aka in three weeks. If you're interested in the story, I'd be happy to share it with you over a beverage of your choice. Anyhow, it begs the question, What next?

What do I want to do when I grow up?

What a great question. One to which I wish I knew the answer.

It's funny.

First, I wanted to be a meteorologist.
And then a marine biologist.
And then a journalist.
And then a bioethicist.
And then a lawyer and politician.
And then a music teacher.
And then an abolitionist.
And then a counselor.

And now I'm finding that I don't really want to be any of those things.

I mean, I could start a whole other list.

Coffee-shop owner.
Worship leader.
Pianist.
Businesswoman.
Overseas missionary.
Administrator.
Wife.
Mom.
Campus minister.
Professional Scrabble player.

But I don't want to do anything, per se. I just want to be.

But how do you do that in a world that insists on defining yourself by what you do?

And furthermore, how do you reconcile the incongruence between being who God made you to be but also needing to pay bills? What does that look like this side of heaven?

Work has been broken in life after Eden. Instead of allowing us to express our identity as the Image-Bearers of God, it has become our identity. One that is suffocating. Like a noose around our necks. Every major or career I've pursued thus far has felt like it expresses certain parts of me but chokes out others.

Maybe I'm asking the wrong questions.

Maybe it's not about finding the dream job.

Maybe it really is being. Being grateful. Being present. Being alive. And accepting the incongruence of work after the Fall. Living in tension. Sigh.

It doesn't answer my question. But is it an answer I really need? To use the counseling cliche "the process is the point." Sigh.