“Why did you move to Oregon?”
This week, I’m not really sure.
If you would have asked me a few weeks ago, before we left, I would have told you we were chasing down a God-planted dream. We felt led out west, I’d say confidently. Anything, anywhere, we told God. And He answered. There must be some reason.
The money was less, but it offered so much more. He will provide.
We accepted. But then I lost my contract, a decent chunk of our income. It was too late to recant.
He will provide.
We drove seven states in three days. Over mountains and through some of the prettiest country this land has to offer. I was so excited.
We actually did it. This thing we’d be thinking about, praying about, dreaming about, happened. We were here.
Then, that was it. We were just here.
And it doesn’t look anything like I had imagined.
We left family, friends, our neighborhood and church all to follow, to obey. So where was the spark, this illumination where God lined everything up to be just like it was, only here?
In this perceived silence, doubt sings her hopeless song.
We made it to church yesterday. After deliberating since we got here about where to even go (introversion and less than desirous decision-making skills + no lightbulb moments), we decided to just go back to the church we had tried on our house hunting trip.
It wasn’t our church. It didn’t feel like home. I like everything to fit, make sense. So while my brain tried to get everything to line up, I simply prayed for a sign. Any sign. Just let me know you hear me.
The sermon was on Peter getting out of the boat to follow Jesus. “Where did we get the idea that for things to be God’s will, it should be easy, with everything working out just so?” The pastor continued, “What if we started thinking and truly believing this, ‘I am exactly where God wants me to be right now,’ to shape and mold and develop me.”
What if instead of trying to figure out what’s next, I accept right now. Instead of ceaseless striving, I say, enough. Maybe instead of operating from a position of trying to help God, I become low, allowing Him to rescue me.
My youngest runs out, hugging me, “I love it here! They sang all of my favorite VBS songs! Can we come back next week?”
And so I’m realizing that perhaps it was not a sending, but the going that God had planned all along.
And through it all, He will provide.