It’s 8:43 on Thursday night and I’m sitting at my computer writing. My house is in total and complete chaos. There are a million things to pack, clean and load. I really need to take a shower (like, really). But I can’t bring myself to do any of it (like, really). Not because I’m procrastinating (or am I?), or because I’m over it (or am I?), but because I need an outlet. Today was supposed one of my running days, and with all the moving I didn’t get a chance to go. So I have all this pent up energy (although I’m totally exhausted) and I feel kind of restless (even though I could pass out). So it’s either go for a run in the dark and risk running into bears…or write.
I choose the latter.
(And I’ll stop with the parenthetical commentary now.)
I’m not really sure what I have to say. However, whenever I have this feeling of a deep need to write, I just sit down and ramble a bit and then it just comes out in the process…that whatever-it-is-that-I-need-to-get thing. Aren’t all three of you so excited you get to follow this non-sensical process? I know I certainly would be.
In case you’re unaware, we are moving this weekend. I don’t want to beat to death the topic of us moving, because it’s such a dead horse. Yes, we’re moving for the third time in 10 months. Yes, it’s a pain to pack. Yes, I wish our house in Atlanta was sold so we could settle in and I could paint the kids’ rooms and put some serious nail holes in the walls. But whatever. We’re moving. Big whoop.
Buuuuut, lately I’ve been pondering this moving thing a lot. Recently a friend casually joked that if it were her having to move again like us, that she would just cry. I laughed and told her that I do feel like that sometimes. But as I was driving home later, I realized that I really don’t feel that way.
And then I thought, is it odd that I don’t?
We uprooted our family to move to the mountains 10 months ago. Then we had a baby, and three months later moved again. Then five months later we are moving again. And I really and truly am pretty okay with it. In the process of packing, yes I admit it’s a huge pain and inconvenience. Am I totally unaffected by the transition? No. Are we the only ones who have ever had to go through something like this? Absolutely not. Will I always talk to myself in questions? Maybe. But it hasn’t felt like the Really Big Deal that I think it should be, and so I sometimes pretend that it is a Really Big Deal.
And I think that’s weird that I do that.
Whenever I’m feeling isolated or lonely regarding something that’s happening in life, I try to go to the Bible to find real-life people who went through something similar. I figure if I know how God worked in their situation, then I’ll have more assurance God will come through in mine.
When we were going through our own personal time of wandering through the wilderness, I read a lot about the Israelites and God’s deliverance. I read how He parted the seas to make a way for them. And it gave me faith that God would part a sea and bring us to our Promised Land.
And He did.
I’ve experienced my fair share of loss, so I read a lot in the book of Job about God’s sovereignty. How God gives and takes away, but how His name should be blessed anyway.
And I bless it.
When I feel betrayed, unappreciated and on the outskirts, I read a lot in Psalms and identify with how David pours his heart out to God, tattles on those who hurt him and places his faith and trust in the Lord anyway.
And I do.
I guess the message I’m supposed to understand today is this: I really do trust God. I just trust Him. However He decides to work, however it looks, however it comes together…I trust Him. We could live in a camper parked on the front lawn of the church, and I’d be fine. Sometimes I think He puts me in certain situations and circumstances solely so I can really know, deep down, for a fact where I stand on the whole faith thing. And I end up surprising myself most of the time. At the onset of the circumstance, I sort of brace myself for the downward spiral of despair…but then it doesn’t come. Now, there are definitely other times I don’t expect it at all and I’m completely blindsided. But at the end of the day, so far in my life, I still net out at the same conclusion:
I so trust my God.
And each time, it feels really good to know that I still do.
So I need to stop pretending that things are Really Big Deals to me when they aren’t. And instead, I need to say with confidence, “No big deal, Jesus is on it.”
My favorite band in college was Black Happy. I wrote them about 10 years after I graduated because I suddenly realized they were Christians and had been all along. All their lyrics pointed to Jesus Christ. One of the band members wrote me back, so appreciative I recognized this even years later, because they felt conflicted about their music and if they were making enough of a stand for their faith.
While I didn’t get it at the time, I do now. And I think these lyrics sum up this Randomness of a Post fabulously:
Sabbath may not come…I don’t care
Sun it may not shine…Oh I still don’t care
Seas they may not flow…Don’t fear it
Means as much to me as a chicken in a biscuit.
(copyright 1994, “Chicken in a Biscuit,” Black Happy)
In other words, none of it means a hill of beans compared to Jesus.
So we pack. We clean. We load. We move.
Chicken in a biscuit.