Here is my view this morning.
Visible or not to the naked eye – it is a drenching rain on a chilly fall morning.
And I have needed that drenching.
It astounds me that my introverted husband (truth) is energized by the hubbub of the early morning coffee shop crowd of townies and acquaintances. There he can hear from God, develop sermon series, wax eloquent poems and chatter with everyone he knows all at the same time.
I, on the other hand, prefer the solitude of my own home.
I am undoubtedly the extravert in the family. But when I want to hear from God and be refueled, when I want to regain my bearings, the last thing I need is people. I prefer a fire on a blustery, rainy or down right freezing day. Perhaps the contrast of environments is significant. I drag a rocker or overstuffed chair into position and park myself directly in front of a fire, where I can pray, worship, and hear from God. Here I am drenched in God’s goodness, his reproof, his comfort, and his direction for my life.
This has been quite the year. A year of trauma as my four-year-old granddaughter survived a life threatening accident that shook us to the core. A year of difficult leadership decisions where you hang on to what you know with dear life but are unable to defend, explain, or discuss completely. A year of sharing the pain of others when no answers are in sight and grief is real. A year of allowing the fear of judgment to steal the joy of the unexpected and unfathomable blessings of a new home. A year of internalizing the rejection of sheep who for multiple reasons no longer choose your care. A year of not blogging lest any of this seep out. All of this adds up to a very full cup that has been dangerously slopping out all over the floor.
But this year, I start anew.
I am recalibrating.
I know it’s October, but I feel change in the air. I feel God calling my heart out from the shore. I feel his waves crashing over me. Me…whose greatest fear is water and drowning. Yet I wander out into the deep.
“He has called me higher, he has called me deeper and I’ll go where you have called me, Lord.”
Next week, I begin a long distance phone-in relationship with a mentor I deeply respect and admire. She is ten years older than me, and decades beyond me in wisdom gained through ministry experience. At this stage of the game, the solitude and isolation of leadership can take a toll and I don’t want to lose perspective.
I want to receive wisdom from someone regarding the ways the enemy attempts to distract and discourage.
I specifically want a perspective from someone who is not emotionally invested in my situation.
I need someone who can ask me the hard questions.
I am looking for someone who hears from God to speak into my life and challenge any distorted thinking that comes from fear or rejection or my aversion to conflict.
As I look out this new window,
I am reminded to graciously accept what God has given. I am willing to be prepared for the next season of my life. I invite God to come and do whatever he wants to. And I will not let the small circle of my mind keep me boxed in any longer.
“I am full but not satisfied”
– this longing to have more of God is real.
“I am out where I have never been”
but it isn’t yet deep enough. The enemy would have me retreat to the safety of my own mind, refusing to let anyone in as I protect myself from the unknown. But like Peter, I want to walk on water. I’m even okay if my walking on water keeps me knee deep in failure, as long as I am moving toward Jesus.
And I am recalibrating.
You should try it.