Leaving the Burg

Moving Day!

There was once a time in my life when I was certain that the job description of “wife” had somehow become intermingled with that of the Holy Spirit. That is to say that I felt it my obligation to inform my husband as to how God was leading him. Naturally I still occasionally hijack these duties, but I have at least come a little farther down the path toward letting God be God. 

When Isaiah and I moved back to the Lynchburg area six years ago, we were confident about the direction of our lives. He would complete seminary at LU to become a youth pastor, we would move out west in just a few years, and the Lord would use us to bring about a real and lasting change in the lives of hurting young people. It was God’s will for us, as revealed by yours truly, and we accepted it eagerly. (After all, I had already graciously enlightened my dear husband of his call to youth ministry.) 

Fast forward six full years and three more kids later, and we seem to have taken quite a few steps backwards from that plan. We stayed several years longer than we planned. There are no more west coast dreams on the horizon, though we did wind up on the southern coast. Isaiah just accepted a job with Sherwin Williams, the company he left to pursue his seminary degree in the first place. That seminary degree that he never did finish. That seminary degree that he never intends to finish.

I have a very different understanding of “God’s will” now than I had in my younger years. I still remember an evening when our youth pastor asked us to anonymously write down our worst fear on an index card. Mine was not finding the “right guy” that God had chosen for me and winding up with either the wrong person or no one. (Shut up- I was in high school.) It’s a very revealing example of the way my mind used to work, though. I thought God had this exact path laid out for us, and we had to constantly be worrying about which steps to take, or else we would screw up our lives and let God down.

Sigh. If only I could re-live my yesteryears. I would tell my young self to pay more attention to my Alvin and the Chipmunks cassette tape recording of Que Sera, Sera. (What’s New Pussycat? was also on that album, but it would still be perfectly acceptable for my younger self to gloss over that one.)

My point is that I no longer have grand dreams for my life anymore. Is this because the world has beaten me down? Am I now too cynical after my dealings in the real world? Have I given up all hope that I should shoot for the moon and thus land amongst the stars?

No. If anything, I’ve become more optimistic over the years. My pessimism has been slowly chipped away by the repeated and undeniable proof that there is always hope for something better. I guess what has changed is my definition of better. I don’t have to worry about “finding God’s will,” and I certainly don’t have to earn God’s approval. While I believe wholeheartedly that God leads us, I also believe that it’s usually one step at a time. And the destination of that path isn’t significance, it is intimacy. Better means closer to God. When He abides in me, I am able to serve out of love rather than duty. I see even the daily grind as an opportunity to share the love of Christ with those I encounter.

And so, my life is no longer led by a desire to figure out what God wants me to do. It is led by a desire to know God more and more. When I abide in Him, then I can trust that He is abiding in me. Then when I get an idea in my mind to, oh, move twelve hours away for instance, I can trust that it’s perfectly acceptable to do so. 

I wanted to move first, but I didn’t tell Isaiah, because I didn’t want to influence his decision. I needed to know that this wasn’t a result of my immature desire to run off and save the world again to satisfy my own feelings of self-worth. But when he revealed that he felt a strong desire to move away about a year ago, I rejoiced that God was leading us in the same direction. We prayed for that entire year about our potential move. We prayed that God would take us wherever would grow us and enable us to serve Him however He desired. We even prayed continuously that God would take away our desire to move if we were better off staying put.

Isaiah’s first idea (quickly shot down when I briefly usurped the role of Holy Spirit again) was to move to North Dakota. Over the next several months we prayed and researched areas in California, Texas, Oklahoma, North Carolina, Oregon, Ohio, Nebraska, Illinois, and more. We finally settled on New Hampshire and prayed fervently about a move there. We laid out a fleece (the sale of our house by the end of 2013), and began planning our move to the city of Nashua. 

Not one single person looked at our house during that time. We were even rejected by the people who buy houses that no one wants. Burn. 

We started to wonder if it was just immaturity driving our desires again. And yet, God never took away that desire to go. It was only getting stronger.

So here’s the part that’s the hardest for me to say, and it’s probably the reason I’ve deliberated over what to write for so very long. I’ll say it really fast.

 IsaiahandIdon’twanttoliveinLynchburg. 

Whew! Got it out. Given that most of the people who asked us why we were moving were from Lynchburg, it was really awkward to admit that. Because even still, there are sure a lot of people there that we love.

Honestly, we had never planned to stay. I guess I would say it’s the culture of the Burg that isn't for us. Lynchburg is a very comfortable place to live. Sometimes it felt like we were literally in a bubble. It’s safe. It’s clean. You could live there your whole life and never see a prostitute or a homeless person. (Not that they’re completely absent, just rare to see.) People are friendly. Complete strangers have helped me on more occasions than I can remember, even on two separate occasions simply to help me push my cart to the van with my kids. There is a church every half mile. The crime rates are low. Even the people who aren’t religious are still moral. I could go on.

I don't mean to say that there's something wrong with all these things. They're ideal in a perfect world. It's just that we don't live in a perfect world. And they were great for my comfort level, but they can be dangerous in many more significant ways. It’s easy to breed legalism in such environments, and it was certainly there. (Though I don’t mean in everyone.) It’s also much too easy to forget what’s going on outside of Lynchburg. Or at the least, too easy to neglect involving ourselves in it. And it's easy to forget that we shouldn’t compartmentalize our ministry from the rest of our lives, if that makes sense. Life is ministry, and I just struggled to remember that in the Burg.

I’m not looking to live a life of ease, and I found it too easy to get sucked into the next Bible study or MOPS meeting or playdate and stay right inside my comfort zone at all times. I needed to challenge myself to grow. I needed a reminder that the world is a messy, oftentimes violent, and needy place. And I want my family to be right in the heart of the mess, not safely watching it from the outside. I want us to get our hands dirty and help. And I don’t want our lives to be segregated into Christian and secular compartments, because that’s not how Jesus lived out his life here. He was the friend of the “worst” sinners, and He was always looking for those with the greatest needs.

I really felt as if there were more than enough people to handle the needs of the Lynchburg population living there already. (Not that they’re always willing- just ask your nursery director!) Sometimes the great commission involves staying where you are for the long haul. I get that. It’s necessary. But sometimes it involves going, and God put that burden on our hearts. We sing songs about taking our candle and lighting our world, but Lynchburg is a pretty bright place already. We felt compelled to take our candles somewhere that might need a little more light.

This is not to say that all of this is impossible in Lynchburg, but it was a struggle for both of us. Surrounded by this comfort, including most of our family and friends, we found it difficult. And that, in a nutshell, is why I think God put it on our hearts to go.

We still love the people of Lynchburg. I am overwhelmed when I think about everyone there who encouraged me, supported me, loved me, invested in me, listened to me, and was everything that the body of Christ should be to this fellow believer. (And not just me, but my entire family as well.) We were challenged by you to grow and to think and to pursue a deeper walk with the God of the universe. You helped give us the courage we needed to step out on faith. 

We’ve been down here about seven weeks now, and the loneliness of being away from so many we love is at times overwhelming. But we knew it would be that way. It’s just not possible to not feel the loss of so many who are dear to our hearts. You are in fact what kept us in Lynchburg when we had planned on moving much sooner. We still love you, and we are so grateful to each of you who played a role in our lives. Truly, we are.

But here we are in Tallahassee, twelve hours away from the Burg. (I don’t know how many miles that is because I only count down road trips by the amount of time left in the car with whining children.) So how did we end up here, specifically?

After our New Hampshire prayers were answered in the negative, we set our sights on Florida. Tampa, specifically, though Isaiah also applied in other areas. This time our fleece was simply a job offer. We were sure it was going to work out. All of the pieces seemed to fall right into place. Isaiah had a successful phone interview with the University of Tampa and was asked to come down in person. That interview was also fantastic, and they practically hired him on the spot. Practically, but not literally.

When the Tampa job officially became a no-go, I just didn’t even know what to think. Even though I know that God uses anything our life throws at us for his good, I still wondered if I wasn’t hearing His voice like I thought I did. Like maybe we weren’t as close as I thought we were. 

And then the next day happened.

In the morning, Isaiah emailed his résumé to multiple Sherwin Williams district offices across the southeast. (He had only sent one to the Tampa district thus far.) Within a couple hours, he had a phone interview with the Tallahassee district manager. Shortly after that, he had another phone interview with the manager of the store. By the end of the day, he had a job offer. It “just so happened” that the district had just purchased a Color Wheel paint store and needed to staff it quickly when their previous management all walked out. The district manager saw Isaiah’s email just as she sat down to review résumés for the position. 

It was enough for us. We had prayed that God would only open a door that we should walk through, and He opened the door. It was a different door than we had planned to walk through, but really that’s what makes it so great. God gets the credit for this provision, not us. All those hours Isaiah spent applying for jobs in Tampa, and my hours of research for housing and schooling and churches meant nothing. (Tallahassee is four hours north of Tampa.) And yet, we never would have gotten all of our things packed and still gotten to say our goodbyes if God hadn’t led us to believe we would already be moving. More than half of our things were already in boxes when we got the word. Everything fell into place just at the right time. God led, we prayed for a very long time, and God opened the door. 

Looking for gators

Checking out the gulf coast on Daddy's day off

There wasn’t anything significant about the city of Tallahassee for us, though we do love the area. It’s been an adventure, and the whole family has enjoyed the new sights and experiences. There has been opportunity for a great deal of uninterrupted family time since the move. I don’t think we even realized just how much we needed that. We’ve been able to focus on getting to know each other, since we don’t really know too many other people at the moment. And we’ve been able to refocus our priorities, since our schedules were virtually wiped clean. It’s been a tremendous and unexpected part of our move, and I can’t wait to see what else God has in store for us next.

For now, we’re just taking things one step at a time. Making connections (slowly), trying to get plugged into a local church body, and just trusting that God will continue to lead us as we abide in Him.

And in the words of that old sage Alvin the Chipmunk, “Whatever will be, will be.”