“There are times when the actual experience of leaving something makes you wish desperately that you could stay, and then there are times when the leaving reminds you a hundred times over why exactly you had to leave in the first place.” ― Shauna Niequist
Today we will lock the door of our one bedroom LA apartment for the last time. And I'm surprised how emotional I am. Not to be leaving, or moving, because I know we're headed into a season of rest and abundance.
Today I am cleaning and trashing and curbing and crying. (Curbing: to put anything and everything you don't want on the curb and watch it disappear. #truestory)
Cleaning, because it's sheer phenomenon how dirty the corners of a home can get without your knowledge.
Trashing, because second to the cleaning phenomenon is how much crap one can accumulate in two meager years.
Curbing, because, well, I can't just throw away that perfectly good fondue bowl and wall organizer I never used.
And crying, because I've been reliving as many moments as I can remember from this place and I am mildly ashamed and amazed the tears I cry are of relief.
I feel relieved to be moving once again. To be walking, again, in obedience. To be headed towards a land of rest.
Movement. Obedience. Rest. These are the promises we are headed towards. Not because we deserve it. Or have earned it. Heavens, if one could earn such blessing, I would strive to exhaustion.
No, promise comes from calling, and calling comes from God alone. (Click it to tweet it.)
"For God’s gifts and His call are irrevocable. [He never withdraws them when once they are given, and He does not change His mind about those to whom He gives His grace or to whom He sends His call.]" Romans 11:29
(Am I the only one whose stomach flips at the sound of that verse?! Read it out loud.)
And the best part? The only prerequisite for a calling from God is breath. One must be alive to accept a calling. (Click to tweet.) But even that, that life, comes from Him. That blows my mind.
Sometimes, it seems our calling grows foggy and unclear amidst our circumstances, when in reality, it's our own vision that has grown blurry. We let Jesus become peripheral instead of central. We let truth subside to the sweet fleetings of our instant gratification.
In His grace and His love and mercy and His fatherly admonition, He brings us back around.
When I'm done throwing my tantrums, He carries me home.
When I'm through whining a rant, He brings me in.
When I'm finished giving the silent treatment, He speaks.
And today, as scrubbed the toilet, I recalled what His Word tells me:
Don’t get off track, either left or right, so as to make sure you get to where you’re going. And don’t for a minute let this Book of The Revelation be out of mind. Ponder and meditate on it day and night, making sure you practice everything written in it.
Then you’ll get where you’re going; then you’ll succeed.
Haven’t I commanded you? Strength! Courage! Don’t be timid; don’t get discouraged. God, your God, is with you every step you take.” Joshua 1
I've never been so torn between the emotion of affection and abandon as I am with this place. This city. These memories. And as I scrub and make countless trips to our giant dumpster, I will cry over what we lost here and sing over what was blessed, for surely, God was with us in this place.