Pressing on Toward What Lies Ahead—July 1, 2013

                If the theme of last week was being “okay” in the desert and in the midst of storms, this week’s has surprisingly been—press on toward what (may) lie ahead.  When you’re in the desert—keep moving. Keep trusting. Keep walking even when all you see is sand, feel the heat of faith fatigue, and even when everything “rational” tells you to give up—lay out a towel—and sit and dream about past journeys. The last few months I’ve given in to living in the past—reliving last year’s joys and the journey my mere 90 days in Kenya was—and admittedly done everything but given up on the faith that has sustained me.  I wanted a quick fix (like the true-North American) and not have to persevere and work for something that seemed like a mirage. You can’t manufacture faith.

Ironically, it was in admitting the reality of the desert—that it WAS hot, uncomfortable, the “sand” of suffering getting into places I wanted to keep hidden—soul aches that needed the sand to bore into them—refine them into pearls. This process isn’t done. It’s lifelong and thus takes a lifetime. As I finished up a study, “No Other Gods” by Kelly Minter, I was struck by the liberating truths that this desert season isn’t a surprise to God. Just like He led the Israelites there for 40 years—this season was planned and is purposeful.

                However, this week it’s almost like a switch has flipped—and as much as I’m enjoying re-reading journal posts from “this time last year” and letting my mind drift back to distinct memories, I’m actually beginning to look ahead. I’m finally feeling the freedom to let the people who passed away “go”—remembering them fondly but not feeling as though I have to taint those memories with sadness that new ones can’t be made. Similarly, yesterday I experienced a burst of joy (albeit it may just be blissful ignorance) over the school year ahead.
                Just like Kenya used to be a “someday” dream that never went away—and just as much as I had to walk the dream daily—I have “unseen” things I hope for—marriage, a family, returning to Kenya—I have to walk this season, the “in between” by pressing on in what I can see as well as what is still a dream.