What's Next?:When You Find Yourself Staring Into the Wilderness

So the Red Sea shut behind the Israelites with what I can only imagine was a dramatic, tumultuous splash, thundering with finality.  Can you imagine how big their eyes were when the water crashed back down into place?  Can you imagine the hush that must have fallen over the crowd and the sea as the waters settled, burying their enemies at the bottom of the deep, blue abyss?  Don't you think some of those people fell to their knees in awe and kissed the ground on the other side? unable to hold back the tears of emotion in release of fear and hope and joy all at the same time?

Then what?

Well if you read the story--like I did not long after we landed our family here in California (Exodus 14)--you will see the Israelites break forth in praise and singing to God the Father. (Exodus 15)  Gratefulness and thanksgiving abound. And so they should!  And so have I.

But then what?

Well, then they're in the wilderness.  The desert.  They're in a dry, hot, unknown place somewhere between what-they-knew and what-they-were-promised. I am here.  In the wilderness, in the desert, in the great in-between of what-I-knew and what-I-am-promised.  And let me tell you, it is a dry, thirsty, weary, heavy, hot place to be.

By dry, I mean I thirst for familiarity, for friends, for family, for companionship not just for myself, but for my children.  I literally crave something familiar, something that feels routine or normal.  I thirst, and my children thirst, and my husband thirsts, and the wilderness is simply dry.

By weary, I mean that I'm pretty sure I'm using parts of my brain that have been dormant for years, like remembering to read street signs and notice land markers.  When you've lived in the same county for 30 of your 34 years of life, these are skills that you no longer have to use.  I'm learning new grocery stores, new playgrounds, new beaches, and all the little ins and outs of toting two kids through that maze of a process all while making sure they feel safe and loved and secure.  My brain is weary.  I've never slept so hard in my entire life.

By hot, I mean well, it's hot here right now, actually unusually hot according to the radio.  And I am in the wilderness.  I and my family are in the wilderness, and it hasn't taken long for the natives to become restless.

In Exodus we find it took all of three days for the Israelites to begin to grumble against God. (Exodus 15:22)  3 Days! I'm pretty sure their children spear-headed this movement of complaint because if Israelite children were anything like my children, they just wanted everything to return to normal, to be the same, to have all the same things they had back in Egypt, for everyone to act the same way, for experiences to be the same, and well, now they're not. We're in the wilderness, and it's a little harder here.  Everyone is sticking a little closer together, wary of what's around the corner or over the bend. Unsure of the terrain and their surroundings, I'm sure the Israelite mothers kept a tight leash on their kiddos.  I can relate.

Unfortunately a tight leash also means having them underfoot, all the time, 24-hours a day, no breaks. No babysitters.  No grandparents to spend the night with.  No playmates to distract them for 2-4 hours and tire them out.  Nope.  You're keeping them close, and you're holding yourself responsible for them, and they are complaining about everything and anything.  Having to help more, hold more doors, eat at new places, ride more elevators, push more buttons, walk more places for longer periods of time. There is an endless list of things for them to complain about!!!

And you, the parent, the mature one, you are doing your best.  I'm doing my best.  I'm making sure I stay in the Word, filling up with as much of God's presence and peace and wisdom as possible, so that I can manage to diligently teach the same, dad-gum, character lessons to my children every. single. day. The hope is if I don't complain, maybe they won't complain.  If I have a good attitude, maybe they will have a good attitude.  If I bite my tongue and focus on the positive, maybe I can teach them to do the same.  Trying to take full advantage of every teachable moment with a six and four year old is also very weary and heavy and hot--hot-tempered that is.

So I completely sympathize with those miserable Israelites only holding out for three days with no water before they started complaining at God, accusing Him of not providing for them, grumbling against the Great God that just parted the Red Sea three days earlier. I get it.  To be honest, I give them mad props for making it through three whole days if their little ones were as out of sorts as mine have been.

So what does that mean for me?  I'm throwing myself at the mercy of that Great God and begging NOT to be like them.  In my moments of weakness and short tempers and harsh words, I am trying to remember to stop and breath and physically take in the presence of the God who brought me here, to this place in time, to this very difficult moment, and REMEMBER what He has already done and what He promises to see me through to--the Promised Land. (Deuteronomy 8:2, Exodus 6:8)

Remembrance, gratefulness, thanksgiving--these are the long, tall, cool drinks in the desert.  These are wells that never run dry.  Jesus Christ Himself is the Living Water. (John 4:14)  His Holy Spirit inside of me is the never-ending wellspring of life. (Isaiah 58:11)  I don't even have to ask for it.  I just need to breathe deep and draw Him in.  Refocus, remember, be grateful, be thankful, be a worshipper of God. Abide. (John 15:5) It's not something I do; it's a realization and acceptance of this is who I am.  His child.  He knows me; He sees me. (Psalm 139)

No, those Israelites grumbled and complained against God, either forgetting what He had already provided or taking for granted how powerful a God He was. He is.  And if you keep reading, you find they just continue to complain and grumble and whine (even though God keeps providing everything they ask Him for!), and God gets so furious He actually wants to destroy them, (Deuteronomy 9:13-14) (I too have wanted to destroy my children on days.)  But instead of destroying them, He shows great mercy once again by only exiling them to wander in the desert for 40 years. (Numbers 14:26-35) (My kids would probably describe their room as the "desert." They wander there a lot.)  I guess that's better than death, but holy cow, shoot me now. I really, REALLY don't want to wander aimlessly in the desert.

So what's next?  LOTS of gratefulness.  Lots of praise and thanksgiving for all the small victories and small moments of blessing that add up to pointing to the provision of a Big God who's involved in the small stuff.  Like when you show up to your new apartment late at night after an 8-hour day of traveling only to find the fridge and pantry are already stocked with all the staples you need for breakfast the next morning thanks to kind friends. (God's provision.) Like when that cost of living paycheck shows up, and you can breathe a little easier because stuff out here is 'xpensive! (God's blessing.) Like when you're sitting in your first church service on your first Sunday in what is sure to be many visits to many churches to find the right one, yet out of all the stories in the Bible a preacher could preach on you hear a message on the Israelites crossing the Red Sea and how they should have remembered God rather than grumbling against Him!  No seriously, that was the message we heard. And tears rolled down my cheeks because in that moment, in that church service, hearing that message, I knew that the Creator God of the Universe has His Big Eyes on little 'ole me. It was a sign for me that He knew exactly where I was and what I was going through, and He was with me. (God's grace, also translated God's favor.) Praise God!  He is with me!!!

And in those moments when I just can't take it any more?  When my entire being wants to wail at God and yell, "Now what?!? Is this all you've brought me here for?!?" Well, in those moments, I fall on my face at the feet of my Big Heavenly Father, crying out to Him that I'm weak and I'm worn out and I just can't take it anymore, and I ask Him to forgive me for leaning too much on myself and not enough on Him, and then I simply ask Him to fulfill the need, just prayerfully, worshipfully, humbly...ask.

And really, it doesn't matter in that moment if He chooses to give me what I ask for or not. All that matters is that my heart is right and clean before Him, and I know I have been heard because whether His answer is yes, no, just wait, or complete silence, the truth is He has heard my cry. (Psalm 116:1-2) He has heard, and He will answer in His perfect time, in His perfect way, and my heart can rest and trust in that truth knowing that He did not bring me out of Egypt to die of thirst in the desert.  There is always streams in the desert by His provision. (Isaiah 43:19)

So what's next?  Learning the ropes. Doing the next thing.  Buying groceries and wet suits and boogie boards.  Exploring beaches and mountains and the lay of the land. Numbering my days carefully and in the process, being fully aware that my interactions, actions, and reactions represent a Big God to the world around me.  I pray who I am brings Him glory.  I pray who my children are and who they become brings Him glory.  I pray our family represents Him well just by smiling at strangers and being kind to the clerk who checks us out at the register.

And I AM GRATEFUL.  It is a state of being, a state of the heart, a state of mind, a spiritual state of matter.

And when a friendly stranger shares the information that Orange County sees 2-3 DAYS of rain in an entire YEAR, and all of a sudden I am physically thirsty and dry just thinking about the afternoon rain showers back in Georgia, longing for it's cooling effects; it's in that moment of longing, that thought, that I must capture my thoughts and bring them into submission of the truth. (2 Corinthians 10:5)  And the truth is...

Psalm 63:

O God, You are my God; I shall seek You [b]earnestly;
My soul thirsts for You, my flesh [c]yearns for You,
In a dry and weary land where there is no water.
2 Thus I have seen You in the sanctuary,
To see Your power and Your glory.
3 Because Your lovingkindness is better than life,
My lips will praise You.
4 So I will bless You as long as I live;
I will lift up my hands in Your name.
5 My soul is satisfied as with [d]marrow and fatness,
And my mouth offers praises with joyful lips.

6 When I remember You on my bed,
I meditate on You in the night watches,
7 For You have been my help,
And in the shadow of Your wings I sing for joy.
8 My soul clings [e]to You;
Your right hand upholds me.

AMEN! AMEN! and AMEN!  What is the truth to which you cling when life is dry and weary?  Will you grumble at a God you must believe to be to powerless to save you to even think about grumbling in the first place? (Exodus 16:7b) Or will you humbly seek the help and favor of the All-Powerful God who is mighty to save and quick to come to the aid of His people? (Zephaniah 3:17)  Will you humbly ask? (Matthew 7:7)  

If we would only ask.  

     Humbly ask and seek His face.  

He would heal our minds

     With His favor and grace.

             (reference to 2 Chronicles 7:14)

Dear God

Dear God,

I don't want to be an Israelite.  They mess up so much.  They really come off looking like a big bunch of spoiled children when I study them in the Bible.  Yet, here I am, trudging through this transition period of life, this stage where I've never been before, and I'm really not sure what lies ahead, and I find myself identifying with those Israelites.

You've parted the Red Sea.  You've given us a path we never could have imagined to walk.  Literally, never would have imagined.  You've asked us to leave everything we've known, everything I've known, for my entire life--family, friends, southern culture, ways of living and thinking that have become so second nature, they're like breathing.  You've asked us to leave it all behind, and You've opened a path that is scary, that is frightening, that requires more faith than I think I have on most days.

Not only does this path through the Red Sea just feel strange and uncomfortable, but You keep asking me to give up more and more of me and myself and what feels safe along the way.  With each step in this dry, water-walled valley, I feel the lump rise in my throat.  I think about everything I'm leaving behind, and suddenly it feels like it's too much.  You're asking too much of me!

I suddenly find myself understanding why the Israelites wanted to go back to Egypt (Exodus 14:11-12).  The path ahead of them was frightening and unknown and for me, it FEELS like I'm having to lose so much to gain...what exactly?  It feels like I'm losing safety and comfort and home.  It feels like I'm losing a piece of myself.  It feels like a slow, painful death, and I'm having to die and grieve the loss all at the same time, all while expectantly looking ahead, trusting, hoping, walking by faith into the unknown, the wilderness, the promised land. (What are those?)  That's what transition feels like to me.

And today Lord, I'm tempted to look back like Lot's wife and turn myself into a pillar of salt (Genesis 19:26). But I won't.  Not today.  God, I feel all these things, and yet, the truth is where You are, where Your presence leads me by pillar of cloud during the day and by pillar of fire at night (Exodus 13:21), where You want me to go is where abundance of life will be (John 10:10).  In Your presence is fullness of Joy (Psalm 16:11).  You promise that.

If I am desperate for joy, I cannot turn back, I cannot go back, I cannot stay, I must press forward.  Press forward into You, lean hard into who You are, keep putting one foot in front of the other simply because in Your presence is fullness of Joy, is abundance of Life, is unconditional Love, is passionate Purpose, is pure Freedom.

Geez.  I almost forgot about freedom!  Going back means staying enslaved to old habits, old ways of thinking.  Moving forward means freedom to be with You in Your plan in the way You deem worthy.

So today, God, I may feel like an Israelite, and I may even be tempted to grumble and complain and moan and whine and fear like one as well, but the truth is I am Your child seated in the heavenlies with Christ (Ephesians 2:5-7), which might be the safest place to be, in all of time an history. In Christ, I am more than a conqueror over my thoughts and emotions (Romans 8:37). I am chosen (Ephesians 1:4).  I am wanted, and I am seen by You, the Creator God of the Universe who will provide my every need.  You hear me.  You know my struggles, and You are fully capable of sympathizing with my plight (Hebrews 4:15).  You have been human after all, and my hope rises in the glory of Your resurrection, Your power over life and death!

Father, forgive me for being weak in this flesh.  Forgive me for losing sight of who You are at times.  Forgive me for seeing only the walls of water on either side of me and not the promised land ahead.  Forgive me for taking for granted that you are leading me to freedom, always leading me to freedom, to green pastures, to still waters, to lands of milk and honey.

Please take away the sting of the things I feel like I'm losing, of the things You've asked me to sacrifice. Replace the sting with the joy of Your presence, Lord.  Joy in the waiting.  Joy in the transitioning.  Joy in the unknown.  Joy in the hard.  Joy to persevere.  Your presence fully present in it all.  Because You are worth it all.

Thanks for listening.  Thanks for never giving way when I lean hard into You.  Thanks for having a plan for me that's bigger than me.  Thanks for holding back the sea because I know I will walk dry ground to the other side of this transition.  You are my firm foundation, the rock on which I stand (1 Timothy 6:19).  My enemies will find all other ground to be sinking sand.

To You be all the glory,

Your humbled daughter,

Jennifer

How Big is your God?

Two years ago I wrote a post comparing myself to Jean Grey and a scene from an X-men movie. If you read that post, you know how disastrous that turned out.

Today, this week, the men have come to pack my home of almost 9 years, and we sign a paper that makes it someone else's home. We successfully nested our family of four in with my parents for the next three months, and my Savannah has been rocked by the change, "Moving is really hard, Mama," tears streaming down her little face. This has been a hard year for her little self, and my heart aches for her.

As for me? Well, this time around I'm not Jean Grey; I'm an Israelite leaving two years of Egypt with the Promised Land ahead, and right now in this moment of life, I'm smack dab in the middle of the Red Sea of Emotions.

The only thing holding back thousands of gallons of tears and anxieties stretching miles high on either side of me is a Great and Mighty God who says, "I've got this. You just keep walking in trust, one foot in front of the other, one step at a time. I've got this."

And that's kinda the best picture I can paint of this transition period between what I've known as home and what God has before me--giant walls of impending doom of emotions that my God by His power alone is holding back, sparing me from destruction.

And I also trust that if the Egyptians of my past, the lies that kept me in bondage, I trust that if they try to follow me through this pass, they will meet their demise by my God's power alone as well.

By His power alone.

Can you even imagine being one of those Israelites? (Exodus 14) The enemy army is closing in behind you, threatening to drag you back into a life of slavery, but all that lies before you is an endless mass of sea and waves and uncharted waters. You cry out to your One True God, He gives the command, and the sea parts before your very eyes. It splits in two and parts before your very eyes. You did nothing, but cry out to God to save you, and this is His answer.

Can you imagine watching the walls of water rise higher and higher above your head as a dry path clears before you? Can you imagine walking in the valley before you, on the bottom of the sea you once only imagined how deep it could be, with sheer walls of water rising miles above you on either side, rippling against the invisible wall of God's Word--the only boundary holding them in place? Can you even imagine the fear, the awe, the wonder, the marvel....the trust it took to take those steps? To take your belongings,  your family, your children down that path?

Yet all God's children crossed safely to the other side. Not one was lost in the abyss.

That's where I am. In the middle of a trust walk of epic proportions, in the middle of my own Red Sea of Emotions. And praise the Lord, He is faithful to keep His promises!

I've shed a few tears here and there reminiscing over the memories shared in this house, over the laughter and fighting and squeals of children that echoed in the halls, over the changes that have taken place in myself and in Joey over the past 9 years. The couple who built this home are not the same two that sold it, and for that I give God all the glory.

No, I have been tempted to wallow, but then I would have learned nothing. No, my God is bigger and greater and more powerful than any emotion I can think about feeling, and by His power alone, in His presence alone, the emotion I feel mostly is joy, a deep abiding joy and peace that brings smiles instead of tears that urges me to keep trusting, keep believing that Jesus Christ is all I need yesterday, today, and forever.

And so I find myself in a place where I am extremely grateful to my God for going before me and flattening out the rough places, creating a smooth, straight path to follow in His steps. (Proverbs 3:5-6)

I know that not every transition in life will be this smooth. I think I would be naive to believe that, but for me, in this stage of life, God needed to teach me that completely trusting in Him is it's own great reward. He also needed to show this doubting Thomas that trusting Him and experiencing joy in my life go hand-in-hand. You really can't have one without the other. The more control I take, the less I trust, the less joy I experience in the journey.

And one thing's for sure, when I'm in control,  I most definitely cannot hold back those deadly, rippling water walls of emotions. Only God can do that. With just a word, He can do that.

Maybe you find yourself in your own valley of the Red Sea. Maybe your emotions or relationships or circumstances threaten to drown you at any moment. I encourage you to praise the One who holds it all back, who beckons you to trust walk the path He has cleared before you, who has the power to hold it all at bay until you've crossed to the other side. Trust Him. Stop looking at the waves, Peter! (Matthew 14)  Have faith that your God is bigger and better and greater, and it requires of Him no effort to hold back those walls of whatever. No effort at all.

Which means He still has plenty of power and resources remaining to meet the needs of yourself and your family even in the midst of protecting you, even while you walk this path. AND He's walking with you because He promises never to leave or forsake you!

Wow. Mind blown. He's just Big. So big.

I know that either the Wilderness or the Promised Land waits on the other side of this transition...maybe both, but in any case, my life has forever been changed by giving up my rights to a God who has a much greater plan. My prayer for those faced with a similar choice? Choose to trust like an Israelite at the bottom of the Red Sea;  trust God, not yourself, not your talents, gifts, or incredible ability to handle things on your own.

Because any super power you may think you possess was given by a God who actually is Super-Natural and Omnipotent and Omniscient and Omnipresent and... REALLY BIG.

So Big. So big that He deserves all the praise and all the trust and all the faith we have to give, and where we lack, He fills in the gaps. How graciously big of Him:)

How Big is God in your life today? in this moment? Big enough to......... (you fill in the blank;) )

For me, He's big enough to keep my emotions in check, to give me joy and hope and peace in place of sadness or worry. And for me, that's HUGE.

(Begin music....)My God is so big and so strong and so mighty there's nothing my God cannot do!

Amen!