“By faith Abraham, when called to go to a place he would later receive as his inheritance, obeyed and went, even though he did not know where he was going”
(Hebrews 11:8, NIV).
I have moved a lot in my life—South Carolina to North, North Carolina to Florida, back to North Carolina for short spurts, to India and back. In St. Lucie County, Florida, alone, I lived in 14 different houses. When we moved to Lillington in 2005, I thought we would be here forever. When we moved into the house we are currently in, I thought it was the last house I would live in, the last move.
Abraham may have thought his location was secure as well. He and his wife Sarah (at the time, of course, they were known as Abram and Sarai) had been in Ur all their lives. They knew their neighbors, hung out with the same folks every evening to watch the stars, knew the best guy to go to for a tent repair or new camel.
And then God upset the fig cart. He has a way of doing that.
When we moved to North Carolina this time, the only people we knew in Harnett County were our daughter and her husband. It was strange, after living in one location for most of the previous 38 years, to go to the grocery store and not see a single familiar face. Everyone was a stranger—friendly, but unknown.
Getting involved in a great church and community theater, putting the grandkids in school, eventually going to work part-time…these things expanded my frame of reference. When I go to the post office, I am greeted by name. There are friends I regularly meet for lunch. My number is logged into numerous cell phone contact lists; numerous contacts are logged into mine. The number of Facebook friends locally exceeds, probably, the number who lives elsewhere.
I’ve settled in. I’ve gotten comfortable. And you know what that means.
My husband decided around Christmas time that when our house sells (assuming it does) he believes we should return to Florida. His parents and two brothers are there. Our oldest son is there. Real estate is definitely a buyer’s market there, potentially enabling us to check off all the items left on Dave Ramsey’s baby step list and move us into financial freedom. All good reasons, but the most important is that he believes it is God’s leading. He was so adamant that he would never live in Florida again (it was the heat), he says that simply the awareness of newfound desire to return is compelling evidence.
The ancient Jews journeyed, long after their forefather Abraham paved the way in faith, to the Promised Land. It was a land flowing with milk and honey, but there were also giants in the land. The “promise” wasn’t of a life of ease and plenty, but the place with and in which God chose to bless them.
During our recent study of the book Radical we got into a discussion of the saying that goes “the safest place on earth is in the center of God’s will.” As it was presented in the book, “safe” doesn’t always mean safe from harm or conflict. God has sent many, many people into harm’s way for the sake of the gospel. Foxe’s Book of Martyrs contains some of their stories, but the real record will only be known in heaven. All over the world, Christians suffer and die because of their obedience to Christ. Every day.
Still, would a person be “safer” outside of God’s will? Safer, perhaps, in terms of length of life or absence of hardship, but the blessing of God transcends these things. Perhaps it would be more accurate to say that the best place to be is in the center of his will…even if it means packing up the household AGAIN and launching out into the deepest depths of south Florida.
Of course, a move this time can not possibly be expedited prematurely, outside of God’s plan and purposes. We can not move until our house sells. Abram and Sarai pulled up tent stakes, loaded down the animals, and they were out of there—the Gillettes will need considerably more prep time.
And too, returning to an area with which we are familiar, containing a ready-made set of family and friends, has its frightening aspects. There are giants in the land! We have enjoyed living in a quieter area, contending with less traffic, being a part of a community that lives its faith more openly than in more metropolitan parts of the country. I have family who live close by that I hate to leave. I’ve made what I hope are lifelong relationships that will be difficult to see change, to insert greater distance. A whole new set of personal challenges await. Knowing I can trust God...when I am in that frame of mind...means seeing these challenges as new opportunities for God to work out his purposes. The problem is, my trust level fluctuates.
During winter, a farmer looks over seed catalogues, plans the upcoming growing season, sharpens his tools. In a way, this season of our life is not only actual winter, but also the same sort of preparation time. We’re throwing things out, packing up nonessentials. My husband is (obsessively!) looking online at homes for sale in Florida. It could take another year to sell; it could take a week. There is that feeling of “being ready” at all times that is at the same time exciting and exhausting.
Change is not always good (as we frequently see after elections) but when God changes direction, we can always trust, as Abraham did, that he knows exactly what he is doing. Even when we do not. Which is, actually, why it requires faith in the first place.
Abraham may have thought his location was secure as well. He and his wife Sarah (at the time, of course, they were known as Abram and Sarai) had been in Ur all their lives. They knew their neighbors, hung out with the same folks every evening to watch the stars, knew the best guy to go to for a tent repair or new camel.
And then God upset the fig cart. He has a way of doing that.
When we moved to North Carolina this time, the only people we knew in Harnett County were our daughter and her husband. It was strange, after living in one location for most of the previous 38 years, to go to the grocery store and not see a single familiar face. Everyone was a stranger—friendly, but unknown.
Getting involved in a great church and community theater, putting the grandkids in school, eventually going to work part-time…these things expanded my frame of reference. When I go to the post office, I am greeted by name. There are friends I regularly meet for lunch. My number is logged into numerous cell phone contact lists; numerous contacts are logged into mine. The number of Facebook friends locally exceeds, probably, the number who lives elsewhere.
I’ve settled in. I’ve gotten comfortable. And you know what that means.
My husband decided around Christmas time that when our house sells (assuming it does) he believes we should return to Florida. His parents and two brothers are there. Our oldest son is there. Real estate is definitely a buyer’s market there, potentially enabling us to check off all the items left on Dave Ramsey’s baby step list and move us into financial freedom. All good reasons, but the most important is that he believes it is God’s leading. He was so adamant that he would never live in Florida again (it was the heat), he says that simply the awareness of newfound desire to return is compelling evidence.
The ancient Jews journeyed, long after their forefather Abraham paved the way in faith, to the Promised Land. It was a land flowing with milk and honey, but there were also giants in the land. The “promise” wasn’t of a life of ease and plenty, but the place with and in which God chose to bless them.
During our recent study of the book Radical we got into a discussion of the saying that goes “the safest place on earth is in the center of God’s will.” As it was presented in the book, “safe” doesn’t always mean safe from harm or conflict. God has sent many, many people into harm’s way for the sake of the gospel. Foxe’s Book of Martyrs contains some of their stories, but the real record will only be known in heaven. All over the world, Christians suffer and die because of their obedience to Christ. Every day.
Still, would a person be “safer” outside of God’s will? Safer, perhaps, in terms of length of life or absence of hardship, but the blessing of God transcends these things. Perhaps it would be more accurate to say that the best place to be is in the center of his will…even if it means packing up the household AGAIN and launching out into the deepest depths of south Florida.
Of course, a move this time can not possibly be expedited prematurely, outside of God’s plan and purposes. We can not move until our house sells. Abram and Sarai pulled up tent stakes, loaded down the animals, and they were out of there—the Gillettes will need considerably more prep time.
And too, returning to an area with which we are familiar, containing a ready-made set of family and friends, has its frightening aspects. There are giants in the land! We have enjoyed living in a quieter area, contending with less traffic, being a part of a community that lives its faith more openly than in more metropolitan parts of the country. I have family who live close by that I hate to leave. I’ve made what I hope are lifelong relationships that will be difficult to see change, to insert greater distance. A whole new set of personal challenges await. Knowing I can trust God...when I am in that frame of mind...means seeing these challenges as new opportunities for God to work out his purposes. The problem is, my trust level fluctuates.
During winter, a farmer looks over seed catalogues, plans the upcoming growing season, sharpens his tools. In a way, this season of our life is not only actual winter, but also the same sort of preparation time. We’re throwing things out, packing up nonessentials. My husband is (obsessively!) looking online at homes for sale in Florida. It could take another year to sell; it could take a week. There is that feeling of “being ready” at all times that is at the same time exciting and exhausting.
Change is not always good (as we frequently see after elections) but when God changes direction, we can always trust, as Abraham did, that he knows exactly what he is doing. Even when we do not. Which is, actually, why it requires faith in the first place.
P.S. Within hours after writing this, an offer was made on our property. It looks like change is imminent!
Permission to reprint with acknowledgement of source.
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