Come

I think one of the things I like the least about missions is the long, drawn-out process that is known as the "good-bye." I hate it.

This week, I started that process by saying first of so many goodbyes with my class of women that I teach every Thursday night. They all asked when I was returning...to which I stumbled and stuttered, "Uh, well... I don't really know." They asked what I would do when I returned to the States....to which I stumbled and stuttered, "Uh...I,er,well, I'll start by moving in with my parents."

As we finished exchanging email addresses and "witching" each other well "witches" (yes, my women still cannot pronounce the "sh" sound in "wish." So... I kept hearing "I witch you many blessings"), my thoughts went to the next month. I thought of the slow, painful process that I know this will be.

I know it's healthy to do it this way, but sometimes I wish I could just hop on a plane and avoid ever having to do it. When I left for Portugal, it was hard, but it was different. There was excitement and anticipation...and I knew that I would eventually return. This, this feels different. I dread it.

Wednesday, Laura and I sorted through our entire apartment. We created piles of stuff to sell, packed more luggage, and got school furniture that we aren't using ready to be taken from our apartment.

It's odd to come to the apparent "end" of one journey. Some days I am filled with excitement wondering what God has next. Other days, all that excitement is overwhelmed by thoughts of the imminent reality of no job, insurance, or even idea of where to begin looking for those things. And all too often, I feel like a twelve year old girl entertaining thoughts of running away and never having to make another decision.

I read the passage yesterday about Peter in the boat. Before I came to Portugal, a dear friend and mentor of mine constantly reminded me to not be afraid to "step out of the boat." Those words were the strength I needed at many times to push through my fears and begin to do what felt impossible at the time.

But yesterday as I read, I noticed something I'd never noticed before in that passage. Peter didn't see Jesus and decide to take the step of faith. Before Peter ever took one step out of that boat, he wanted to be sure He was heading toward Christ, and not some figment of his imagination, or whatever it might be that speaks to men in the midst of storms. Peter asked for some clarification. He said, "Lord, if it is you, bid me to come."

My eyes welled with tears. Because in the storm that God is asking me to endure right now, not much is clear. And prior to reading that passage I had just prayed, "God, is this really you doing this? Do you really want me to step out in faith on this? Or... did I miss it? Did I imagine you doing this? Can you just show me?"

I saw in Peter such a desire to do the right thing. I saw a genuine heart cry to in faith do the impossible... but even Peter needed to be sure it was Christ...and not a disastrous step that would cost him his future and possibly his life.

And Christ answered, "Come."

That word resonated with me.

"Come."

So I'm praying. I'm praying that somehow, someway, God would whisper that word to my heart about some things. I want to be willing to step out in faith if it is truly God leading...but, I just need some reassurance that it is HIM, and not my own doing.

So I'm waiting.... listening.... and ready for the word. Oh, I know... it won't lesson the intensity of the storm. And, like Peter, it won't be easy even when I know it is truly Him I'm walking towards... but I'll be ready to take the step when I hear him say it.

Do you want to know something strange?

In less than fifty days, I have absolutely no idea what I am doing with my life. I will return, move into my parents house (at the age of 28), and... well... I don't even know, honestly.

But the strange, absurd thing about it all is that I'm getting excited. God has to show up... He has to come through... He has to provide... He has to lead... because, I have nothing. He has brought me to a place of forced trust.

And what I love more than anything, is knowing that it is His name, not mine, at stake. It is His glory, not mine, that will be displayed.

So, I'm getting anxious to see how He's going to provide for my needs. And, He's challenging so much of my American view of the word "need" that I am curious to see what He deems a "need" by what He chooses to provide for me.

I wonder if this is what Moses felt... when he reached the Red Sea and realized it was God... or else. Or David when he stood before Goliath. Or Abraham when he stood over Isaac with his knife raised.

I know my life is small and insignificant. But, I like knowing that God has brought me to the place where it's Him... or it's nothing.

And I can't wait to see what He does...