Originally Published the First day of Fall, 2016
“For I know the plans I have for you”, declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you a hope and a future.” Jeremiah 29:11
Fall is in the air…in Colorado, my forever home, and I am not there. I am not hiking through the quaking aspens to lofty heights to inhale crisp mountain air. I’m not sitting on a craggy rock outcropping gazing at the wonders of autumn. I’m not above where trees dare to grow listening to the song of the elk. There is no smell of campfire and sweet pine. The peaks are not dusted in snow. I am not wearing a sweater in the wee hours of dawn to find off the early chill. My air conditioner is not off. The windows are not open and there is no thought of a fire in the fireplace (if I had one). I am not there; I am here.
I am blessed, so very very blessed, but this is not my home. It is where I am.
Himself (*Himself being the ex-husband) and I have moved thirteen times over the last twelve years. We wander. We are very nomadic, never permanent. Most of the moves have not been little moves either. Colorado to Wyoming to New Mexico to Texas (all around Texas) from Houston to Colorado then to Missouri. All these moves have one thing in common. We chose the location and purposed to move.
Here is different.
Last September, engulfed in prayer when I packed up and said good-bye to my forever home of Colorado, I left it all in the hands of God. “Spirit lead me where my trust is without borders,” I prayed. “Let me walk upon the waters wherever you would call me. Take me deeper than my feet could ever wander, and my faith will be made stronger in the presence of my savior.” (“Oceans” by Hillsong).
Here I sit. A stranger in a foreign land, feeling a bit Israelite, a bit exiled. An empty turtle shell for a friend, and trees that have become my home–wondering what in the world God is doing.
Some phases of life are preparation phases. God spends time getting us ready. Like the seasons of the earth. I feel in my spirit that the winds of change are blowing differently than I have ever known. This is all backward. Previously, months before we decide to move, before it is even a thought in our heads, I feel the change coming in my spirit. The pattern is predictable, highly recognizable. The change I feel coming is different than a change of address. I am about to see an uncharted course.
I’m watching God lay down a new foundation. I’m watching him put the pieces into place, but I cannot tell what he is building because He said He’s doing it this time, not me. The winds of change are blowing . . .
There are many verses before Jeremiah 29:11; exile, expectations of getting out of Dodge, and seventy years. “Hey, settle in for a bit. Build a house, plant a garden, make that house your home. It’s gonna be a while. While you are there, in that tiny community you know nothing about, seek peace and prosperity of the city (tiny town) where I have carried you into exile (oh, so I am in exile, huh?…hush and listen, please). Pray to the Lord for it because if it prospers, you too will prosper.” (in my own words Jeremiah 29:5-7)
“Really, Jeremiah 29:7? Are you serious, God? This is not my home. These are not my people (if I had a people). What are General Turtle (yes, I named the empty turtle shell that is my friend), Dog, and I suppose to do?”
“As long as you have breath, you said, you would pray! Now you have something to pray about!”
Sweet trust and Jeremiah 29: (pause) 7…
In verse twelve, I found the word “then.” Usually, when I see “then,” that means to trust God first.
“Then you will call on me and come pray to me, and I will listen to you. You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart. I will be found by you,” declares the Lord, “and will bring you back from captivity….” Jeremiah 29:12
How do an empty turtle shell, a dog, and a girl pray for something none of us know anything about?
From my face buried in the carpet, I’m watching the borders of trust fade. Beautiful boundaries carefully placed to limit God crumble. I am in a sea without end. Blackness adorns, with the anticipation of light on the horizon. Alone, but not alone, in a vast unfamiliar land, silently and boldly, slowly and unsure, I rise. Confidence creeps near as I step into my appointed place of “chief of prayer security” in this house I’ve been making a home. The atmosphere is changing now, for the Spirit of the Lord is here.
“I am here.”
My heavenly Father smiles, “I’ve just been waiting on you. Are you ready?”
“Yes, I am ready.”
I’ve been here before, Lord, and I failed. I do not want the strength to stand on my own two feet; I want the strength to remain forever embedded in your presence.