When Moving On Means Staying Put

Eleven months ago, we planted a for-sale sign in our yard and buckled in for a wild adventure. We weren’t sure where we’d land, but we were full of faith and following God with reckless (some would say) abandon.

And how’d that work out for us? After scrubbing my kitchen floor more times than I thought humanly possible, we’re right where we started—except with new carpet and a new screen door.

It looks like we’re in the same place, but are we really? Fortunately, no. God made me, and He knows I’ve got to be able to find some purpose in hard things or I’ll just fall over and die. So as I meet with Him, He’s giving me some hint of what these 11 months may have been about:

Faithfulness. I’m very faithful to the things I want to do. But to things that take discipline, sacrifice, and selflessness? Not so much. I think God may have been testing my faithfulness through the little things. Some days I’d be home alone with the kids and have just an hour’s notice to stash the piles, make the beds, load the dishwasher (after unloading it), and everything else involved in showing a respectable home. I’d spend the first five minutes throwing the mother of all fits, screaming (in my head) at God, “I am SO DONE. I can’t keep doing this.” And every time I would hear the same answer: “Yes you can.” And every time it would get done, and I’d feel like a foolish toddler who had just thrown a pointless, selfish fit in front of my Father. It’s easy for me to be faithful to my husband, my children, my TV shows. But God wants us to be faithful in the little things—with the right attitude—before He trusts us with bigger things.

Risk-taking. When we planted that sign in the yard, we had no place to go. We had only a peaceful knowledge that when the time came, God would make a place for us. This is the complete opposite of how I prefer to live my life. I like to know what my kids are wearing to school three days from now, yet I wasn’t even sure where they would be sleeping in the next month. God didn’t call us on it, but I truly think I would have been OK if He had. There’s something about flying without a safety net that makes life richer, that makes relationship with God more urgent.

Surrender. In the past three months, my prayers have gone from bossy requests for God to sell our house (“You put us up to this, Lord, so you better do your part!”) to complete surrender to His will. I thought surrender meant selling our house and giving up our cushy suburban life. But now I believe that surrender only came when I threw up my hands, stopped telling God all my grand plans to serve Him, and finally said, “Whatever.” I think it’s in that whatever place that God can truly work in us. That’s the place I want to stay.

The realtor’s coming to take down the sign this week; we're calling it quits for now (because a sane Christmas is a merry Christmas). Do we feel defeated? Confused? Frustrated? Yeah, a little of all those things. But we also feel pretty certain that we’re right where God wants us, and it’s not a bad place to wait, especially with the new carpet.