As I sit here, quietly allowing disconnected words to swim around in
the oceanic depths of my mind, I hear my eight month old daughter
babbling on the baby monitor. She's awake and the sounds are both
precious and overwhelming. I've been wanting to write for weeks now, but
each time I sit down to try, I'm quickly pulled away by other life
demands. I call out for my 13 year old son to help, which he does, and
I've bought a few more moments of solitude in which to think and
organize my current message. The times are blessed, but challenging.
In December of last year, I packed up and left California, the only home
I'd known for over a decade, and headed east. I imagine what Abram
must have felt when the Lord told him to get up and go to a land He
would show him. Genesis 12:1 records God's instruction to him and it's
direct, but void of elaborate detail. He said to Abram, "Go from your
country, your people and your father's household to the land I will show
you." In essence, leave everything familiar, all that you know and
love, and go somewhere new and unknown. From what we can read in the
text, God told him nothing of the new place, He simply called Abram to
obey in faith. A risky venture for most, but the New Testament Hall of
Faith Fame, Hebrews 11, puts Abram, later called
Abraham, on shiny display as a model of righteousness, faith, and
obedience (Hebrews 11:8-12). He didn't have all the answers, but he
went. He couldn't see the outcome, but he trusted God. He undoubtedly
felt sadness and grief to leave his family, friends, and comforts
behind, but he didn't count any of it so precious or too valuable (Acts
20:24) to miss the call of God. He knew where he was rooted. Do you?
My own journey has been similar, but with a splash of Jonah. Prior to leaving California, I believed God had given me instructions to go to Philadelphia. I knew very little about why, but it's the land that continued to come up in prayer and reflection. Nothing about it made sense, but I was ready for the adventure. Or so I thought. At the last minute a seemingly amazing opportunity to go to Indiana instead fell into my lap. God had never mentioned Indiana, only Philadelphia, but I reasoned it out as His sovereign redirection. Plus, the trek required much less faith on my part because the path to Indiana appeared to be paved with stability, certainty, and statistically proven opportunity. Philadelphia had so many uncertainties and the faith required was more than what I had. The last minute decision was made and I went to Indiana. I'll sum the experience up by saying everything that glitters is definitely not gold and those who appear to be kind and generous and loving aren't always what they seem. 2 Corinthians 11:14 says that "Satan himself masquerades as an angel of light" and I came face to face with this reality while there, so it was both painful and a relief when the whale spit me up onto the shore of my own deserted beach (Jonah 2:10). I did meet some great people while there, so not all was lost, but the journey reminded me of the pain that follows disobedience to God's instruction. I am now in Philadelphia.
Some of the most difficult days I've experienced have come since my move, but hidden in every trial has been a supernatural blessing of God's mercy, grace, and provision (James 1:2-4). I have cried countless tears in moments of affliction and stress; He has offered comfort and support (2 Corinthians 1:4). I have yelled at God in anger; He has listened with compassion and understanding (Hebrews 4:15). I have felt despair and anguish; He has called me to hope (Psalm 42:5). The sleepless nights have nearly overtaken me, but He has promised to give me rest (Psalm 127:2, Matthew 11:28). I have struggled to provide for and guide my children as a single mother, but He gently calls me to remember Psalm 127:3 that says my children are a "heritage and reward from Him," and that He will help me in my time of trouble (Isaiah 41:10). And He does. The smiles and laughter of my kids and the light of His Spirit sustain me and propel me forward when I want to give up. That said, I have still frequently felt buried under the weight of my present burdens, and ironically, the apartment I moved into is a basement unit. Buried. Underground. Unseen even by my mailman until I showed him. But here's where I derive comfort - when a seed is planted, it's buried. In the dark. Under the cold, hard ground. Invisible to the eyes of people walking above, but what is happening during that time underground? A brief and simple explanation from the Science Learning Hub website says this:
When a seed comes to rest in conditions suited to its germination, it breaks open and the embryo inside starts to grow. Roots grow down to anchor the plant in the ground. Roots also take up water and nutrients and store food. A shoot grows skyward and develops into a stem that carries water and nutrients from the roots to the rest of the plant. The stem also supports leaves so they can collect sunlight. Leaves capture sunlight to make food for the plant through the process of photosynthesis.
An entire bible study could be conducted on just that paragraph, but the main points I want to make are this- while I thought I was firmly rooted in Christ before today, I wasn't necessarily. But I'm getting there now. God has literally dropped me into the soil of this basement apartment, conditions suited to my germination, or growth, that He might break open the shell of my being. In doing so, hidden life inside of me grows upward and blossoms, while my roots simultaneously grow down into Him until they're anchored in Christ Jesus. The entire process is incredibly painful and I don't always like it, but I am learning to be grateful for it. I remember the times I prayed for God to "help me be rooted in you that I might not sin against you," and while I'm currently enduring the pain of developing those roots, I wouldn't have it any other way. I'll take the basement. I'll take the soil. I'll take the breaking open of my life's seed. I'll take being rooted. Will you?
"Let your roots grow down into him, and let your lives be built on him. Then your faith will grow strong in the truth you were taught, and you will overflow with thankfulness." - Colossians 2:7
My own journey has been similar, but with a splash of Jonah. Prior to leaving California, I believed God had given me instructions to go to Philadelphia. I knew very little about why, but it's the land that continued to come up in prayer and reflection. Nothing about it made sense, but I was ready for the adventure. Or so I thought. At the last minute a seemingly amazing opportunity to go to Indiana instead fell into my lap. God had never mentioned Indiana, only Philadelphia, but I reasoned it out as His sovereign redirection. Plus, the trek required much less faith on my part because the path to Indiana appeared to be paved with stability, certainty, and statistically proven opportunity. Philadelphia had so many uncertainties and the faith required was more than what I had. The last minute decision was made and I went to Indiana. I'll sum the experience up by saying everything that glitters is definitely not gold and those who appear to be kind and generous and loving aren't always what they seem. 2 Corinthians 11:14 says that "Satan himself masquerades as an angel of light" and I came face to face with this reality while there, so it was both painful and a relief when the whale spit me up onto the shore of my own deserted beach (Jonah 2:10). I did meet some great people while there, so not all was lost, but the journey reminded me of the pain that follows disobedience to God's instruction. I am now in Philadelphia.
Some of the most difficult days I've experienced have come since my move, but hidden in every trial has been a supernatural blessing of God's mercy, grace, and provision (James 1:2-4). I have cried countless tears in moments of affliction and stress; He has offered comfort and support (2 Corinthians 1:4). I have yelled at God in anger; He has listened with compassion and understanding (Hebrews 4:15). I have felt despair and anguish; He has called me to hope (Psalm 42:5). The sleepless nights have nearly overtaken me, but He has promised to give me rest (Psalm 127:2, Matthew 11:28). I have struggled to provide for and guide my children as a single mother, but He gently calls me to remember Psalm 127:3 that says my children are a "heritage and reward from Him," and that He will help me in my time of trouble (Isaiah 41:10). And He does. The smiles and laughter of my kids and the light of His Spirit sustain me and propel me forward when I want to give up. That said, I have still frequently felt buried under the weight of my present burdens, and ironically, the apartment I moved into is a basement unit. Buried. Underground. Unseen even by my mailman until I showed him. But here's where I derive comfort - when a seed is planted, it's buried. In the dark. Under the cold, hard ground. Invisible to the eyes of people walking above, but what is happening during that time underground? A brief and simple explanation from the Science Learning Hub website says this:
When a seed comes to rest in conditions suited to its germination, it breaks open and the embryo inside starts to grow. Roots grow down to anchor the plant in the ground. Roots also take up water and nutrients and store food. A shoot grows skyward and develops into a stem that carries water and nutrients from the roots to the rest of the plant. The stem also supports leaves so they can collect sunlight. Leaves capture sunlight to make food for the plant through the process of photosynthesis.
An entire bible study could be conducted on just that paragraph, but the main points I want to make are this- while I thought I was firmly rooted in Christ before today, I wasn't necessarily. But I'm getting there now. God has literally dropped me into the soil of this basement apartment, conditions suited to my germination, or growth, that He might break open the shell of my being. In doing so, hidden life inside of me grows upward and blossoms, while my roots simultaneously grow down into Him until they're anchored in Christ Jesus. The entire process is incredibly painful and I don't always like it, but I am learning to be grateful for it. I remember the times I prayed for God to "help me be rooted in you that I might not sin against you," and while I'm currently enduring the pain of developing those roots, I wouldn't have it any other way. I'll take the basement. I'll take the soil. I'll take the breaking open of my life's seed. I'll take being rooted. Will you?
"Let your roots grow down into him, and let your lives be built on him. Then your faith will grow strong in the truth you were taught, and you will overflow with thankfulness." - Colossians 2:7
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| Image from Threshold Church |
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