I've been taking some time off from writing, waiting for a time when an opening in my schedule and a moment of inspiration would intersect. It's been a crazy couple of weeks, and I'm so happy to report that I'm on the other side of it having done very well in one of the hardest classes a CS major ever has to take. I also preached my first sermon down in West Palm Beach, and despite a combined three hours of sleep in the preceding two nights, I think it was well-received and (I hear) much needed in that congregation.
The past couple of days I've been walking around in a fog. I just sent a text message to a friend saying that I had mashed potatoes in my head. What does that even mean? I think I might be getting sick and I've forgotten what that does to my head. Or maybe I'm just recovering from the lack of sleep this past weekend. Or both. Either way, I want it to stop.
So anyway, all of that was a preface to say that if what I write here today doesn't make sense, there's good reason for it. This is a blog; it's not the gospel. So take it or leave it or play hopscotch with it… It's all the same to me. :-)
I've been thinking a lot about change — how I'm afraid of it and how some of my close friends are too. We're at a job or a school or a church or a living situation where we feel safe but at the same time out of place or just unhappy. Yet leaving somehow means that the safety of what we know is gone. I keep hearing I want to do what I love but I can't leave this… I've got such a good thing going here.
If you don't love it, is it such a good thing?
Really.
It comes down to [1] settling for what we know (keyword: settling) or [2] going out on a limb for what we don't know in order to follow a passion or respond to God's beckoning us toward something better or whatever words you want to put to it. Why should that be so terrifying?
When we have the manufactured safety of a well-paid job and a roof over our head and always knowing where our next meal is coming from, the thought of change becomes terrifying. We are in control. We have everything we need. We don't need to rely on anyone else. The world is our oyster.
Sometimes I feel like my safety closes more doors than it opens.
Don't get me wrong — I am so grateful for it. I am so grateful that my family, my friends, my church, and most of all my God have always provided. I have never known a day without shoes or a night without a blanket.
I don't really know what I'm getting at here. Like I said, mashed potatoes.
I guess if I could put it into words it would be that sometimes we are so accustomed to having everything under control that we can't stand to think of any other way of life. Even if it means being more fulfilled, more content, more… more.
About a year ago the family that lived two doors down moved to Oviedo. The father went to Seminary there and the mother stayed at home with the two most beautiful children I have ever laid eyes on. They were a family of four living on the salary of a pizza delivery man. (Literally, that's what he did for a living). I used to order pizzas on the nights his car was missing from their driveway so that the family could spend a few minutes together after he dropped the pizza off. And what faith they had that their family would be provided for that they were content to live on that kind of income. It's a kind of freedom I've never considered.
It seems that the families with children are always moving in and out around here and that the rest of us just kind of stick around to watch the U-Hauls come and go. To watch other people's lives change.
Children inspire change because they grow so fast, physically and emotionally. They are quick to learn, quick to influence, quick to adapt. Change is all they know. Rather than fear change, they inspire it.
I long for that child-like faith that provision will come with change.