Out At Sea

(I started writing this in early December 2016.  I erased and rewrote and erased because I was having a difficult time conveying my feelings without being overly transparent or melodramatic.  I didn’t feel it was appropriate to share at first but I’m all better now.  The first half is from December, the second from today.  Thank you for reading.)

It has been about 2 1/2 months since we left our jobs as youth pastors.  With every passing day we float further away from the shore that is the ministry we built.  Some days it’s easier because it’s out of sight, other days it’s harder because it’s out of sight.

Are we floating or are we sailing?  Are we stranded or are we headed somewhere?  Where are we going, why are we here, are we safe, how long will this take, what will this cost us? These are some of the more common questions we ask on a regular basis.  Sometimes they are asked full of hope, sometimes they are asked in a state of despair.  The amount of questioning does not change the fact that we are out at sea in life right now.  The way we ask absolutely effects our trip.  Perspective makes it a cruise ship or a slave galley, and the choice is ours.  I can either encourage myself in the Lord and remember what He’s said about us and our situation or I can be overwhelmed that all I see is ocean. Freaking out while on board a ship can get you quarantined.  I can either lament the fact that my feet are not on solid ground at my destination or I can hit up the karaoke lounge and belt out an Elton John song I pretend to like ironically but secretly love.

The journey is not going to kill me, God doesn’t put us in seasons that are lifeless. Even in seasons that we declare painful, He declares beauty.  Desires are meant to be fulfilled, it is God’s goodness and nature for Him to meet our needs.  One reason the church is so unattractive to the lost is because believers have swallowed the lie that God isn’t that good.  They don’t outright say it, but when they describe their life and what He’s done for them it is unappealing.  It’s not so much good news, more like confident hopelessness news that ends on the note that we will at least die someday.  The idea doesn’t come from scripture, but from unmet expectations.  The sorrow of a dark night at sea can be crushing to the soul, but our hope is in the Lord.  I’ve heard of this shore we are sailing too, and it’s so good that the only way I can receive it is by confident expectation in who He is.  Sometimes I’m called into the Captain’s quarters to look through a telescope.  “What am I looking at Sir?” ‘I can only really describe it in terms you know.’  “Wow, that’s where we’re going?” ‘Yup, now stop your sobbing and hit up that midnight buffet!’  The Captain doesn’t really care for grumbling and ignoring Him when He’s talking.  For some reason He loves it when I tell everyone around me that I believe we are all going somewhere fantastic.  Believing the Captain is pleasing to the Captain.

I write this as we are out to sea.  I am looking forward to our destination.  Is there a casino on board?  Only way to find out is to look for yourself.