When the Pevensies arrived in Narnia they found a land covered in ice and snow. Hearts frozen, longing, as the inhabitants of the land wander in a world that is ‘always winter, but never Christmas’. They are waiting, searching, hoping in this frozen desert of sorts.

Wasn’t it much of the same way for the people of God as they awaited that first Christmas?

Longing, searching, wondering, wandering, waiting, hoping…

And there was this baby. A baby born to an elderly couple who had spent their life waiting.   A baby that was different from the rest. He looked wild, he didn’t follow the rules of the winter. He was a voice in the desert speaking.

And they came to Him and asked “Who Are You?”

John the Baptist answered.

His Identity was defined by who He is Not.

John knew that the question behind what they were asking was really, are you Him? Are you who we have been waiting for?

“He did not fail to confess, but confessed freely, “I am not the Christ.”

He knew who he was and who He was not. This great man, this great speaker did not pretend to be more than He was.

His identity was defined by what Scriptures said about Him.

John quotes the words of Isaiah.

“I am the Voice of the one calling in the desert. Make straight the way for the Lord.’

His Identity was defined by his Relationship with Christ.

“He is the one who comes after me, the thongs of whose sandals I am not worthy to untie”

There was this man crying out to all who would hear.

Prepare yourselves.

His salvation is coming.

A voice in the desert.

Can we not relate?

To the fictional Narnians.

To the first century Jews.

Longing, Searching, wondering, Wandering, waiting, hoping in a world that is full of ice, snow, empty beauty.

Do we know who we are?

Do we define ourselves by what we are not?

We are not God. We are not Christ. We are not our Savior.

That is freeing.  it is He who accomplishes His Work, we are merely to obey.

Do we define ourselves by what scriptures say about us?

Adopted, Forgiven, sanctified, loved, created, chosen….

Beloved, do we hear this? Do we believe this? Are we reading the Scriptures to determine our identity?

Do we define ourselves by our relationship with Christ?

Christ is EVERYTHING.

He is our Lord, our Rescuer, our Salvation.

Are we praying? Are we listening?

Are we in relationship with him?

The White Witch has ruled over Narnia for far too long.

But Aslan is on the Move

“Every valley shall be filled in,

Every mountain and hill made low.

The crooked roads shall become straight,

the rough ways smooth.

And all mankind will see God’s salvation.”

Luke 3:5-6

Notes from Rev Matthew J. Carr’s Sermon on Sunday December 14, 2014. You can listen to full sermon here.

“Self-Importance robs you of the ability to extend grace”

Ouch. My husband made this statement to me recently as we discussing a conflict that I inadvertently found myself in. The statement rang true to me and convicted me more than I would like to admit. How often do I hold people to this standard that I create? Do I get angry, frustrated, annoyed, etc., when people don’t act the way I think they should? When I am hurt I respond defensively, protecting what I think is important. Ultimately I am saying that I am more important than they are, that my experience is somehow more valid. I’m letting self-importance take over. When I focus on myself and what I think I deserve, my ability to show the grace that I have been given is hindered. And it begs the question, “If I can’t extend grace, have I really even experienced Grace?”

As days went by and I pondered this statement, I found myself realizing that Self Importance not only robs me of the ability to extend grace to others, but it robs me of experiencing the joy of God’s Grace. The moment I think that I am important enough that I deserve something is the moment I cease to grasp grace. The very situation that prompted this statement from my husband is a great example. In one of my feeble attempts to apologize for the misunderstanding and hurt I caused this person, I found myself listing ways that I had been a friend, and I even said, “I think I deserve grace.” Yikes. Red Flags. Maybe I deserved some benefit of the doubt, maybe I deserved some merit, but deserve grace? Wrong word. Grace is a gift, not a reward.

Quite honestly, this is just a small illustration of an everyday problem in my life. I should wake up every day thanking the Lord for His Grace in my life—instead I wake up with me on the mind and usually that involves stress as I run down what must be accomplished. I puff myself up, I think of the good I have done or need to do and I let self-importance creep in coloring my days with illusions of what I deserve or earn or merit. And my view of God becomes shadowed by these illusions.

Whether it is verbal or not, I am saying, “Look at what I have done/am doing….I deserve some this or that. Or even “I deserve Grace.”

Daily, my self-importance rears its head and I choose my way, my ideas, and my plans over His.

But if I can be honest…..

This sin, this self-importance, this pride — this is the reason He came. This is the reason he died. This is the reason he bled. That is what my self-importance deserves, earns, merits.

When the illusion of my self-importance is shattered and I am blinded by the reality of the flawed, sinful human I am, this is when I can truly begin to see the vision of Grace.

The perfect holy Son of God took all my filthy rags, my sinful slop, my selfishness, my shallowness, my pride and he made me clean. He adopted me. He will never leave me or forsake me. He will never deem me not worth loving, a friend not worth keeping. He deems me a daughter of the King with all the rights and privileges that come with that. (Ephesians 1:3-14)

This is Grace. And where there is an understanding of Grace, there is gratitude. While self-importance focuses on what I am doing or have done, Grace focuses on what God has done for me. I can’t do anything but say thank you. When I truly understand the depth of His grace, grumbling, complaining, ingratitude fall away. And in its place is Joy.

Every single day. Every single moment. Every breath. Every provision. Every tear, every laugh begins to be seen differently.(Acts 17:24-25) Instead of something I deserve, something I have earned, it is all something I have been given. Instead of mourning or whining for what I don’t have, I see that in Christ I already have all I need.

Grace changes everything.

Grace allows me to see discipline as actions of a loving father, and I give thanks I am His. (Prov. 3:11-12) Grace allows me to see my to do list as an opportunity to serve him, to glorify him in all that I do and to give thanks for the abilities, gifts and blessings in my life that keep me busy. (1 Cor 10:31) Grace allows me to see trials and conflicts as times to learn and lean on Him, and give thanks for the deeper relationship with Him that grows. (James 1:2-4)

Self Importance robs us of Joy. It enslaves us to work.

Grace though, Grace breaks the chains.

Grace pours a new perspective over our every day.

Grace sings a song of joy and the lyrics of the song are gratitude.

In this world, I don’t think that I will ever fully rid myself of the thief of Self Importance. Some days the fight starts internally the moment my eyes open—(or the moment they are supposed to open and I am groaning at the alarm clock.) Some days the fight comes when someone wrongs me or accuses me of wrong. Some days the fight is waged when I begin to dwell on what I don’t have, what I ‘deserve’. However and whenever it shows up it’s a battle that needs to be fought with the Word of God. But it’s a battle that has ultimately been won by the Author of Grace.

And that should bring joy to the heart of those redeemed by Grace.

Some people may wonder where I got the phrase “Writing with Rocks” I thought I would share this story that I wrote a a couple years ago. It was the first time in a while that I had allowed myself to write and certainly the first time I ever shared anything publicly.

Yesterday, at church a friend laughingly asked who decorated our car.  Curious we went outside and on the front of our car were words and swirls etched in the hood of our red minivan.  Yes. Etched.  As our daughter skipped by, we questioned her and she said “yes, I did it”…”with a rock”.   Quite honestly,  I had to turn my head and laugh at the shock of it all.  Of my daughters, she was the last one I expected to be involved in vandalism!  . As the details came out, a memory that was blurred with all the other seemingly mundane experiences of life became vividly clear.

We were at a local restaurant that had a large selection of white rocks and brick walls.  As we sat out enjoying the beautiful weather one day our sweet girl discovered that the white rock ‘wrote’ on the brick wall.  In childlike innocence she excitedly proclaimed the rock “magic”. 

I remember smiling at her excitement and letting her believe the rock was indeed magic.  Fast forward a few weeks and now, my child who had had such excitement about the magic rock, was devastated at what she had done, discovering ultimately that the rock was just a rock .

I was so proud of her dad and how he handled it.  He was disappointed and frustrated, but he responded with such grace- loving and firm. He wrapped his arms around her and held her. My daughter could not accept this at first.  All she saw was her mistake.  With embarrassment and anger at herself, she ran from her dad.  She hid her face.  She shed tears and said she could not possibly be forgiven.   She did not know what she was doing would have permanent consequences, and could not accept it. She felt she did not deserve his grace, but that’s the thing with grace.  If you deserve it it ceases to be grace.   Truth is that is so me.  I hold myself to impossible standards of perfection, all too often falling prey to a false idea that I earn the love and grace given to me.  As I watch my daughter it pains me to see my tendencies in her, yet it opens my eyes to the folly of my ways.  When I ‘write with rocks’ my loving Heavenly Father teaches me the error of my ways, but he also loves me and holds me in his arms. He covers me with grace so that though the scars may last as the words in our car will last  my eyes can see grace in t them.

The gift of grace to my daughter was the first and most obvious lesson I saw in this situation, but as I dwelled on it further, I began to see another lesson.   When she first wrote with that rock, I smiled. I knew that there was a scientific explanation to the ‘magic rock’, but why dash her excitement?  I let her continue with the false idea of magical rocks.  Yet the initial excitement of the magical rock paled in comparison to the devastation and embarrassment of the permanent scars when she took that false idea to far.  As a mother, I honestly never counted the cost, never thought that she might do something like that, I never meant for her to be led into heartache from that simple false idea.  And while it was a mistake and in the grand scheme of things will become unimportant there is a lesson in that. How many times do I know the cost, know the depth of truth that is being ignored and do not say anything because I do not want to spoil the ‘magic’?   Joining in with gossip, repeating a lie, supporting a friend who has misplaced affections, family who have an idea that is not in line with scripture etc. Its so much easier to smile at their ‘excitement’ and even encourage what may seem small and innocent instead of speaking truth.   I’m helping them ‘write with rocks’.  And sooner or later the truth will come out.  The rock will be revealed for what it is, a earthly rock. The magic will disappear and the scars on this earth may be permanent.  Is the false temporary happiness of calling a rock magic worth the consequences?

Parenting is a wonderful journey full of highs and lows.  There moments that just make me laugh, moments that I’m so tired I can’t think straight, and then there are these moments.  The moments where in the craziness of our beautiful family, God speaks and the Rock of Ages writes upon my heart.   Moments where the roles are reversed and you realize that God didn’t just give her to me to teach her, but that He may teach me. May my daughter’s handiwork etched on the hood of the car be not just another problem to deal with but a reminder to be bold enough to call a rock what it is and to allow the Rock of ages to remind me of His grace for all the earthly rocks I have written with in my life.

We moved recently, (a contributing factor to my inconsistency with writing). It has been a big move that quite honestly has both excited and terrified me. We have cried tears of joy and tears of heartache.   This isn’t the first time this move has been referenced here and it won’t be the last, as this move has and is teaching me many things.

We announced that we were moving two months before our physical move actually happened. I feel like I didn’t have a summer, as my entire summer consisted of transitioning my heart, my home, my family from one state to another, from one house to another, from one church to another. This isn’t the first time in my life that I have moved, but it was the first time I moved as a mother – and in truth it was the first time in a very long time that I transplanted from a place where my heart had put down roots to another.

I have to say the response of our church that we were leaving was beautiful. People showered us with well wishes, cards of appreciation, and love. On our last Sunday, the elders gathered around our tear-stained faces and prayed for us during worship before we went out to enjoy a final fellowship lunch with our church family. Precious ladies surprised me with a going away party with lots of laughter and the best food and drinks around.  Physical needs were met too. Friends brought boxes, and before long my carport was overflowing with them. Friends watched my kids so I could pack, and even brought food over when my kitchen was in boxes.

In so many ways, I was blessed as my church family cared for us not just spiritually and emotionally, but physically as well. My husband started his job before the girls and I were able to come. I was left with three children and a house to pack. I had needs. People were willing to help. In fact I was asked “what do you need?” more times than I had an answer for. I was grateful, but it didn’t always feel natural to answer the question with something other than “we’re fine.” Instead, in my true American way, I battled thinking that accepting help is admitting weakness. But I began to answer with ways that we could use help; boxes, childcare, food. And, of course, our needs were met. Sometimes the questions were even specific: “can I bring you dinner?” “Can I pick up your kids?” “Do you need anything heavy moved?”

As the actual moving date came closer, I began to receive volunteers for help cleaning after the movers left. This is where my foolish pride drew the line.   Instead of saying, “Yes, I would love that!” I avoided answering specifically. So, on our last day there, as the movers carried out our belongings, I began to deep clean the house by myself. As I was on hands and knees cleaning baseboards, I reflected on this. Why did I struggle so with letting someone else help me clean? It was not because I thought I could do a better job. It was because I was ashamed to let people see my dirt. No matter how much a house is cleaned, when cardboard boxes are stacked, furniture is moved, and rooms emptied out, there is always more dirt than you realize. I knew that. I also knew that I had been so overrun with boxes in the last few weeks I hadn’t cleaned as much as I would have normally. I dreaded people coming in and seeing my dirty floors, my dusty baseboards. I worried what people would think about me. But as I cleaned windows and bathrooms, I began to realize a few things about myself – and about the parallels between my cleaning issues and the bigger issues of sin. 

Sin is like dirt. I cleaned my house on a regular basis. I dusted, cleaned toilets, mopped etc. I got the surface dirt regularly, and there were those days that we ‘deep cleaned’ and got the deep dirt that we knew about. But still when the furniture is taken out, when cardboard boxes that have been stacked for weeks are moved, there is dirt built up that we hadn’t thought about, hadn’t noticed. Sin is like that. We can deal with our sins and repent and give them to God regularly, but still there are times when he calls us to ‘move’ and when we do we see that there has been some dirt building up that we hadn’t even noticed, or maybe we had, but we thought it was hidden enough it’d never be seen.  

Hiding our dirt only exhausts us more. I was worn out from the events of the previous weeks. Cleaning the house by myself so that no one discovered my dirt only made me more tired. It took more time and more effort. In the same way, working to keep people from ever discovering that we have weaknesses, struggles, sins, and dirt in our hearts can be exhausting. It takes a lot of energy and effort to make sure all of our words and actions match the image we so badly want to create.

You can’t expect help you never accept: I had offers of help. It was not my friends’ fault that I did not have help. It was mine. In the same way in our lives, if we are so bent on proving that we need nothing, we can’t be upset when we get nothing.   I have heard many people complain when a need was never acknowledged or met within the church body – but so often those people are intentionally on the fringes of the church, never fully engaging, never opening up, never inviting others into their real lives. I didn’t have help because I was too ashamed to accept the help.

Doing it alone isn’t necessary or beneficial: Not only did I miss out on fellowship – to be honest, I forgot a few things. When we are dealing with the dirt and sin in our lives, we need accountability. We need that friend who says I am right here with you, who lovingly reminds you of what needs to be done. There is no friend like Christ (Prov. 17:17), but he has given us His people to walk through this life with; to lovingly and boldly proclaim the gospel to one another – and together to those who are not yet His.

We all have dirt I rejoiced in the church and the way they showed us love, but when it began to get to uncomfortable, I hid. It was foolish really. No one has moved and not had to clean. I have been to friends’ houses when they needed good vacuum or had a ring in the toilet – and it did not make me love them any less! So, why did I think that they would love me less if they knew I had those things? It is the same way in our hearts. We all have sin. (Rom 3:23) We are all messy, and dirty, but we are so busy hiding it from each other that we are left dirty, exhausted, lonely and missing out. We are missing out on seeing glimpses of God’s redemptive love displayed among His children. We are missing out on being encouraged by the fellow believer who has a story to share of God’s grace, we are missing out on pointing someone else to the cross as we share our story of how He is cleaning out our hearts. We are missing out on proclaiming how His strength is displayed in our weakness. We will never be completely without dirt on this earth. But Christ came and died that every dusty corner of our hearts could be wiped clean and made like His. It can be a long and painful process, but He is a faithful God.

Dirt shouldn’t shock the dirty. My friends knew there would be dirt, which is why they offered to help in the first place. They knew because they had experience with dirt. They had experienced smudged windows, food crumbs in the oven, and dusty baseboards of their own. They may not have known the exact places, but they knew there would be some dirt. They wanted to help because they wanted to show love. And you know what? The holy, perfect, without blemish Lord of Lords is not surprised by my dirt. God knows every single bit of dirt in my life and heart, and He loves me still. The dusty corners of my heart aren’t a reason to fear God, they are a reason to rejoice in God’s mercy and grace; a place for Him to show his redemptive power and love.

We have moved now and are settled into our new home. We are embracing a new calling, a new home, and a new church family. I am making an effort to be real, to be open about who I am, even with my struggles, my imperfections, and my dirt. I am a child of God, chosen, loved cherished…

even with dusty baseboards.  

My best friend use to tell me I had a ‘Cinderella complex’. I loved fairy tales, all things romantic, and happy endings. I had high standards when it came to dating, and I expected nothing less than a prince. And sure enough, my prince came. He didn’t show up on a white horse, but we did drive off in a white jeep. And I didn’t have on glass slippers, but I did have on blinged-out flip flops. I wore a purple gown, and we danced at the ball known as Senior Prom. Four years later, I wore the white gown, carried pink roses and, surrounded by ten of the fairest maidens in the land, I married my prince.
It’s been ten years. Ten years since I said “I do” to my knight in shining armor. And you know what? I still have a Cinderella complex. I am still in love with my Prince Charming. But I’ve learned a few things about fairy tales over this past decade…..

You don’t have to wait until the pumpkin turns into a carriage.
By today’s standards we married young. We were fresh out of college. None of our friends were married, or even engaged. We didn’t wait until we had a nest egg. We didn’t wait until we had met some financial level. We didn’t even wait until we had our dream jobs – looking back we didn’t even know what they would be. We were young and inexperienced and naïve. I have no regrets. I’m not advocating teenagers run off and marry the love of their life. But I am saying that if you are waiting until a perfect moment, until you have it all figured out, you’re selling yourself short. There is never going to be a perfect moment. There is never going to be a moment when you “arrive” and have everything figured out. Marriage is about figuring it out together. We made mistakes. We learned. We failed and succeeded. We messed up. Together. We still do. Marriage is about becoming one, and that is much more than physical. It’s about becoming one in decisions, in your vision for life. It’s about becoming one in glorifying God. And while it’s certainly not the only way, I think there is something wonderful about two people who don’t have it figured out committing to figure it out together. So your pumpkin isn’t a carriage yet – don’t miss out on the fun of turning into one together.
Castles come in all shapes and sizes.
We have lived in pretty much every type of home. We don’t even yet own a home. Our castle doesn’t look like other fairy tale castles. And that’s ok. It’s our castle. It’s what we have created together. The castle doesn’t define the fairy tale. It’s what happens in the castle that makes the fairy tale. It’s the love and learning that happens within the walls, whether they are made of stone or are paper thin. It’s the tears and laughter that echo the halls, whether they are grand or simple. Your story can’t be defined by the material.
Don’t fear the villain.
Every fairy tale must have some type of villain. It’s true in the story books and in our real lives. The difference is that in our everyday lives the villain isn’t a fire-breathing dragon or an evil witch with a poisoned apple. Our villains come in the form of hard times, job losses, illnesses and more often than not our own sinful and selfish tendencies. In our ten years together, we have enjoyed some really sweet times, but we have also walked some dark valleys. We have faced some ‘villains’. I can say now with confidence that they don’t break the story, they make the story. They bind the hero and the heroine together when they fight with the armor of God. These real-life fairy tale villains prey on our weaknesses and bring them to light, but ultimately they drive us to the Light and they showcase His strengths, which are perfect in our weakness. They bring us closer to one another and closer to God. We don’t have to fear these ‘villains,’ we need to embrace the fight. Sometimes the pain inflicted in the fight can be the very thing that heals us. And every villain, no matter how big or small, has already been defeated in Christ. Victory is ours, whether we experience it in this world or only the next.
The glass slipper isn’t meant to be shelved.
It’s so easy as life goes on and children come and jobs increase in their demands to put our glass slipper on the shelf. We put on the house shoes, the job-ready shoes, the running shoes, the mom shoes. We have to pull that slipper down and put it on. We have to remember that we are still the girl in the fairy tale in love with her prince. Yes, men: romance and date your wives. But wives: let’s not forget to be his girlfriend. We need to wear that slipper and date our man. We need to put away the mom shoes at times, and be a wife. We are setting an example for the future generation. Our kids see what we do. They cannot dethrone our prince. A family needs mother and father modeling relationships. We do our marriages a terrible disservice when we shelve the beauty of its history. How do we teach our children to seek a godly and loving marriage if all they see is us serving them?
Your serve a Kingdom in a land far, far away.
I married a Prince and I am a Princess. But not because of what the fairy tales say. Because we are children of the King of Kings. He has adopted us into His family. This is the Kingdom that we serve. This is the Kingdom that our marriage exists to further. We are two people becoming one, submitting and serving one another, loving one another so that the King of Kings may be known and glorified. This earthly kingdom that we create, whether small or big, is not the end all. It is merely a shadow of the Kingdom to come. Marriage isn’t about how much we can promote our kingdom here on earth. It’s about how we can further the Kingdom yet to come. When I love and respect my husband, I am illustrating how the church is to love her groom. When my husband loves and respects me, when he sacrifices for me (and he does in ways small and big), he is illustrating in a tangible way how Christ loves the Church. We need to understand where our royalty comes from. We need to understand who we are in Christ. Only when we love the King more than ourselves can we truly love one another. Only when our eyes on the Kingdom ahead, can we truly create a lasting kingdom here.
Happily Ever After is what you make it.
There is Happily Ever After. But Happily Ever After isn’t a feeling, it’s a choice. It isn’t something that just happens. It’s something that must be worked for. It’s something that must be chosen. It’s something that some days you have to search for. Happily Ever After is about being in a covenant relationship with someone who has committed to love you and serve you no matter what. Happily Ever After is about the peace and freedom that comes from a relationship like that. I think we don’t talk about the word “covenant” enough. We talk about marriage in terms of feelings and what makes you happy in the moment. But that isn’t lasting. That isn’t true happiness. Happily Ever After isn’t easy and it isn’t what we expect. It’s about working through the times that break your heart, not running away. It’s about understanding what really matters. Ten years in, I’d say we are living happily ever after because we know that our happiness isn’t founded in circumstances. Yes, we have experienced times of amazing happiness and excitement and good things. But we have also had our share of disappointment, confusion, and deep heartache and questioning. We didn’t survive because we felt like it. We survived because of God’s grace and because we chose to cling to Him. He is our Happily Ever After.

So here I am, a Cinderella junkie 10 years older and wiser. I’ve learned that while yes, there are some great parallels to my marriage and the stories I loved growing up, ultimately no fairy tale that I can read or watch can compete with the reality of living a story that the Great Author writes. Walking down the aisle isn’t “The End”. It’s actually just the beginning, and the only person in the credits is God.

Jeremiah 29:11 is one of the most quoted verses, especially during graduation season. I love it. Yet as many times as I’ve highlighted it, reflected on it, and quoted it, it truly has been and continues to be a process of internalizing and applying it. The verses say “For I know the plans I have for you, says the Lord…” My default is to say those words, but mean that the Lord knows the plans I have for myself. It’s kind of sad how often I have defaulted to that, and how often I have assumed that because my plans were good, that they were His.

I could start any number of places, but for the purposes of this post, let me start back in June of 2005. After a year of marriage, my husband and I packed a U-Haul in the rain and headed to a great city in the Midwest to start Seminary. We were young, naïve and excited about all that was ahead of us. We didn’t know exactly where God was leading us ministry-wise, but we knew we would finish in 3 years, start a family, find a job, and conquer the world. That year was incredible. It was an adventure. 15 hours from home and family, we became one in a way we hadn’t before. We faced the unknown together. We found jobs, we found a church, we found our way, together. It was extremely hard at times. It was fun at times. We were right where God wanted us, but not where he wanted us to stay. Our plans were not God’s plans.

In February 2006, everything changed. I went to the doctor with a terrible case of the flu and found out I was expecting a baby. That was our first clue that God’s plan was so much more than what we had originally thought. We knew that one way or another things would change. Our neat, 3-year plan was going to be drastically altered, though we weren’t sure yet how. About 2 months later, through a mutual friend, God flung open the doors to come on staff at a church back South. The process was relatively easy, and it was exciting and smooth. So, in June 2006, we once again found ourselves packing a U-haul and heading to our new home.

I can say with full confidence that I am so glad my plans were not God’s plans. I’m sure that if he had allowed us to stick with our original plan it would have been good, but I’m so glad he didn’t. When he led us to Georgia, he led us to a wonderful church. While there were times of loneliness and learning, we ultimately discovered he had led us to a church family and home where we were deeply loved by God’s people and where we learned to deeply love God’s people. He led us to an education that had a depth that sitting in the classroom couldn’t match, as we ministered to students and families. It was a blessing to be closer to our respective families and living in a beautiful part of the country.   We would often say that we had found our dream home/church quicker than we had ever imagined and we couldn’t imagine anything else. Still, we couldn’t ignore the original calling to go to seminary. So in fall of 2009 we obeyed God’s calling and started back to seminary. Slower and more deliberate, as my husband made the drive to Atlanta for classes. We figured we would finish in 2 years. And then we would live happily ever after in our new home. After all, how could we ever ask for anything more? In 2009, we had no grasp that we could ever desire anything other than what God had blessed us with. It truly was a decision out of obedience not out of aspiration for more or different.

Again, God’s plans were not our plans. What was supposed to be 2 years turned into 4 years, and what was supposed to be easy was not. There were some dark times personally over that span of 4 years, times that I now see as part of our education for ministry: ministry is something that isn’t just taught or learned from a book. There were questions and problems and answers and solutions. And somewhere over that time, God began whispering to our hearts that this was not where he was ultimately leading. He gave my husband a sense of calling to preaching God’s word and to pastoring. So while our hearts and love for our church family did not change, we did begin to have a sense that God was preparing us for something else.

In May 2013, we finished seminary! We were overjoyed and thrilled and excited and relieved…and curious. What now? So we began as best as we could to make plans on how to proceed. And for the next year God over and over redirected our plans. At one point, we agreed that we felt like we were in this difficult molding process and at some point we would understand why, but until then we just had to keep moving forward in faith even when we couldn’t see the big picture.

In January, we received some interest from one church, among interactions with some others. We turned down this opportunity at first, because we weren’t sure how it fit into OUR plans. But God used them to pursue us. And in March we drove for a visit. I wish I could say my heart had been in the right place and I was just peacefully following wherever God led. But I’d be lying. I think my exact words where “I’m mad at God.” I was weary of the roller coaster of the last year. I was weary of the unknown. I didn’t understand why we were driving to this place that we weren’t even sure we wanted to go. Basically, I was kind of pouting and pitching a fit in my heart. We arrived in the city and God spoke. It wasn’t audible, but it was real. “See, child. I know what I’m doing. This is where it’s all been leading. Just trust me.” What followed was only confirmation of that. We were welcomed with open arms. We laughed and talked and interviewed with this group of God’s people, and we just felt at home. God’s plans are not our plans. And in the months following our visit, God has continually confirmed in our hearts that this is where he is leading next. We have now officially accepted the call, and are making plans to once again pack up and move, to follow where He has led.

I am a big ball of emotions right now. I feel excitement and anxiety. I feel joy and sadness. I feel fear and confidence. We have moments we excitedly plan and moments we longingly cry. I don’t know exactly how everything is going to work out, I don’t know exactly where this next step will lead. But I know that God’s plans are not our plans, and in that I can rest and rejoice.

You see, Jeremiah 29:11 is not a stand-alone verse. It is not simply a feel good verse about God’s plans to prosper us. You have to read and reflect on verse 12, 13, and following. God doesn’t just know the plans he has for you. He is going to walk it with you. He says seek after me, and you will find me. The plans that he has for us are found as we seek him, for as we seek him we begin to desire him. We begin to see the goodness of who he is, and we begin to grasp that when we are his, our future and our hope are in Him. And while that may not be as clear a ‘plan’ as we might like, it is a plan that will never fail because He never fails. That is what I cling to now. As I don’t know where I will live, and I don’t know how my kids will ever be loved like they are here; as I prepare to bid farewell to my family and comfort zone and head to the unknown, I cling to the truth that He knows the plans He has for me – for us – that He will hear when I pray, and that He will be found when I seek Him.

This a repost of a blog that I posted around a year ago. It is something that I really needed to read and reflect on again.

Dear Daughters,

Chances are you won’t remember tonight, but I want you to…

Tonight didn’t go as you planned. We were heading out to something that you looked forward to. But it didn’t happen. The rain poured, time got away, and when your daddy and I looked in your eyes we saw exhaustion. Knowing the bigger picture, we knew that your plans was not what was best for you. So your daddy got back in the car, he turned the car around, and he drove. I had sat in the back with you girls that day so I wasn’t up front with him. I didn’t know what his plan was. You didn’t either. You both took turns asking “where are we going?” You sounded worried. At one point one of you said, “I’m cold, tired and confused.” Your daddy didn’t say much. I didn’t know where we were going, but I knew what to say. I said, “Just trust Daddy”. It worked for a moment, then the questions came again. You still wondered where we were going. I could understand that. I turned and looked at you said, “Your daddy cares unbelievably much, he works hard to provide and care for you every day. You can rest in that and just trust your daddy.”

It was at that moment that a small still voice whispered “Exactly”. How much more is that the case with my heavenly Father? Oh sweet daughters, at 31, I am exactly the same way with Him. There are times when I am cold, tired, confused, and I question where He is taking me. More times than I would like to admit I struggle to trust Him. Yet how much more can we trust Him? The words I spoke of your earthly father are right. He loves you truly, madly, deep, but he is an imperfect, flawed man. He has messed up, he will mess up. Even so, you know you can trust him. At your young ages, you know that you are safe with him and can rest in his love, in his provision.

Daughter, your Heavenly Father has never failed you, and never will. He has never messed up. He loves you truer, for He is Truth. He loves you more madly, for He sacrificed His own Son for you. He loves you more deeply, for He is the creator of the deepest of deeps and the highest of highs. So how much more can you trust in Him? Your earthly daddy saw your need, knew the bigger picture and acted. Our heavenly Father created us, he knows the needs we don’t even know. He sees the bigger picture. He is the bigger picture. His actions are always good.

I don’t know if you remember, but tonight you ended up at a Frozen Yogurt Place. We walked in the brightly colored room, and filled up on Triple Chocolate Ice Cream. We laughed and enjoyed a little family time. We headed home, tidied up a little, and got in bed early. The truth is, though, God doesn’t always lead us to a brightly colored Frozen Yogurt Place. There isn’t always chocolate ice cream at the end of our our confusion . But ultimately there is always something better: His Glory, Knowing him better, becoming more like him. Sweet daughter, HE is ALWAYS better than ice cream.

As the years go on, you will find yourself in this place. You will find yourself, confused. You will wonder where the road is going, why things aren’t going as you anticipated. When you do, I want you to remember tonight. I want you to remember how your earthly father saw your need, a need you didn’t want to admit you had, and he acted. I want you to remember that moment when you trusted him and rested in that. And I want you to remember how much more you can trust and rest in your Heavenly Father who loves you infinitely more than you can grasp.

Still Learning,

Momma