Every now and again I have a moment.
You know, a moment. A moment when I’m not sure. A moment where I hope all we believed we were meant to do is what we were truly meant to do and not some hideous, horrendous mistake. A moment where I find myself struggling with all we left behind. A moment where I feel displaced instead of where I belong. Lost instead of found. Empty instead of full. Absent instead of there.
And I chide myself for it, these moments. My mind knows better than to indulge them because I know the pitfalls of backward looking. Sometimes you just can’t second-guess going in the direction God takes you. It smacks of looking back to Egypt and might land you wandering in the desert for 40 years. Better to seek Him further, pray for direction, find your way, and be content.
But I can’t. Not today.
In these last few weeks, I’ve struggled. In our absence, our former town has been earthquaked and hurricaned. An old friend from Lititz, newly back from Afghanistan, lost his home to the raging fires in Texas. Our church lost one of its youngest members to cancer, a courageous little warrior named Conner, gone home to be with Jesus and just five years old. And tonight, at his memorial service, the entire county has been flooded like it hasn’t been since 1972.
And here in Nebraska it was a beautiful 72 degrees and sunny. It just doesn’t seem right.
Funny, I thought the simple missing of my friends and work and house and life would be the tempter to send me looking backward. But instead all the calamity and loss has taken me there . I’m far away from my friends and they are hurting. And even though there probably isn’t a single thing I can do for any of them to make it better, my heart longs to be there. If only to stand there. If only to pray with them.
And so from here I pray. I can’t be there but He can be. So know, dear friends, that I’m praying for you all tonight. For your safety, for your sadness, for your broken hearts. I’m praying that the clouds will part, the sun will shine, and that God will keep you close.