“I feel like we’re right in the middle of a ‘Choose Your Own Adventure’ book.” he said.
Jason and I were driving home from our friends’ house late one night. These are the kind of friends who let you sit on their couch for hours and welcome deep conversations about life and God.
We’re moving back to Texas. The moving truck will be here in a week and I am a wreck. I am just completely undone. Because Jesus. Because of all that He has done here over the past seven years.
We have certainly had our share of hard times.
But we have also had some really, really good times.
We had every summer. We had the Fourth of July and fireworks and a sweet little small town parade. We had the beautiful Pacific Northwest with her mountains and lakes and long summer days that finally turned into nights. And we had camping and s’mores and conversations over campfires and starry skies. We had Sports Camp. We had that crazy cowboy hat wearing children’s leader that somehow managed to make over 300 kids scream when he held up a water bottle. We had the mission teams and the block parties and bounce houses and the cotton candy machine. We had the children from the community who received their very first Bible; for some of them, it was their family’s only Bible.
We had that Sunday when we set up for church and no one showed up. We had the times when we had to add more chairs to the school gym because everybody showed up. We had the snow in the winter and the time we had to push the church trailer up the hill. We had Wednesday nights where we all shared meals and coffee and conversations together. We had the times when the children ran in circles around the house and there were so many who came to Bible Study that we couldn’t all fit in the living room. We had Baptism Sundays; men, women and children bathed in that holy water from a portable baptistry in a school gym turned sanctuary.
We had community.
We had it all.
“It’s just so hard to turn the page when I love this chapter so much.” I told him.
Questions reeled through our minds. We admitted them out loud to one another hoping God was listening and that He would answer us too.
“I am doing a new thing.” He whispered to my heart.
He is doing a new thing.
He is doing a new thing in Arlington. Jason told me as I wiped tears from my face, “The Commons Arlington doesn’t stop. It keeps going. It touches eternity.” He is right.
He is doing a new thing in Seattle. Without me. And it is going to be okay. My prayers for this city and for the people – those keep going. They touch eternity.
He is doing a new thing in me and through me. And perhaps I am so undone because I am scared of what I don’t know and what I can’t control. I cannot tame the One who set the world into motion. I can only surrender.
Maybe you have sensed it too. He is speaking a new thing over you.
Watch closely: I am preparing something new; it’s happening now, even as I speak,
and you’re about to see it. I am preparing a way through the desert;
Waters will flow where there had been none. Isaiah 43:19 (The Voice)