Finding God In The Change: Fight Fear, Failure and FatigueSample

The Temptation to Rush or Retreat

Since making the huge transition, in just the last two years, we’ve moved three times, lost two grandparents, had our second baby, started pastoring a church, and I began writing full time. Plus, there's a huge world out there, and times have been difficult for people. The truth is, all these transitions, have forced me slow down, find God present with me in the change, and choose again, to surrender, trust and obey. 

As we search for God, He is able to help us hear and see Him, all along the way. I am not a dreamer; it’s not the primary way God speaks to me. But recently, I woke up at 4:45am (bless), having had a dream of my husband, Cody, and I in a boat, in the middle of a body of water, and so clearly felt I heard, “You’re between two shores, and I have already promised you the other side.” 

Church has been part of my weekly practice for almost twenty years, which means I have heard the story of Jesus sleeping in the boat about 218 times, and what sucks about being in church, is that Bible stories lose their power to affect you. But when we’re in the messy middle of life, we need to be moved by truth, regardless of how many times we’ve already heard it.

One of the nuggets of wisdom I gathered from the dream, is that I can’t get out of the boat. If I do, what the heck will we do? Have an eternal swim? Get eaten by sharks as we try to retreat? Get lost trying to rush the process of getting to the other side? 

When I consider the difficulty of pressing forward without really knowing where we'll end up, I am so tempted to retreat, to turn the boat around, to go back to what felt comfortable and easy. I am also tempted to rush the process, to work myself into a tizzy creating motion, even if it’s in the wrong direction, too fast and furious, for my own good. 

I’ve had to just stay in the boat, and remember.

Remember the promise that come hell or high water, we’ll get to the other side. So, when the high water washes over us, when we feel all alone, when we see no tangible evidence of a promise fulfilled, and then our chest tightens, we must steel ourselves against the onslaught of anxiety, and whisper, “Surrender.”

The water will not kill us. We are not alone. It doesn’t matter what we see; it matters what God said. We will get to the other side. A prayer I pray in the midst of change: I yield my expectations, to be filled with hope again. I yield my discomfort, to render obedience. Surrender. 

Friend, I don’t know what you’re facing, but I pray God would give you a word in due season, that will help you return to rest, to truth, to life, as you endure the space between here and there. You’re not alone, you’re going to be okay, and it’s going to be worth it. I don’t know how; it’s a mystery the way the Lord works out the worst of things for our good, but He does, over and over again. You are destined to receive all that awaits you on the next shore. Hold on to hope, as you resist the rush and the retreat. Surrender. Trust. Obey.

PRACTICE: Close your eyes, and imagine yourself in or near water. Perhaps a creek in the woods, or the dock at a lake, or waves crashing on a sandy shore. Breathe in and out slowly, as you picture the scene. Where is God? Is there anything He would want to say to you, or give you during this time?