I've spent the last two months preparing (spiritually, mentally, physically and materially) to live abroad for 11 months. I've practiced yoga as much as possible. I've crafted more than 100 bracelets. I've refused to set my alarm. I've read and prayed. I've spent time in the mountains. I've had countless coffee and dinner dates. I've spent so much quality time with my friends and family, and I'm beyond thankful for the time they've spent loving me and pouring into me.
The World Race is literally just around the corner. And my type-A, planner, perfectionist, fleshly brain knows it. Ok, so you've got this year taken care of. What next? A masters degree, perhaps? In-state? Out-of-state? Abroad? Journalism? Photography? Marketing? Time's ticking. You better start weighing your options.
When I relenquish power to my flesh, I find myself making decisions that make all the sense in the world… and absolutely no sense in the Kingdom.
Just before Christmas, these kinds of thoughts were dominating my mind. I was sitting in my bathroom floor one night. My hands were organizing and reorganizing toiletries and such; my head was mulling over grad school. In my world, this is not uncommon, or weird.
I was thinking about universities and academic programs. Then about application requirements and deadlines. Moments later, I was firing up my laptop admist the piles of lotions and nail polish. I went straight to Google and typed in three letters: G-R-E.
Ah-ha! You could take the test on January 2nd. You'd have two weeks to study—you could totally do that. Then you'd be all set for when you return in December. You'd be taken care of. This is a responsible thing to do.
I stared at my computer for several minutes before slamming it shut.
Crazy. That's what you're being—crazy. You're about to venture to 11 countries for a year. You're going to see things you never dreamed of. You're going to encounter God in ways you never imagined. You're going to learn things about this world and about yourself that will change you forever. The GRE? Get real.
And so, I decided I'd sleep on it.
That night, I told God, I'll do whatever you want me to do. Just please tell me—what am I supposed to do with my life? Not with my next two years. With my life.
He gave me two very familiar letters that overcame my three: G-O.
As humans, we make every effort to control our lives. We white knuckle the world until we're backed into a corner. Our incessant striving and comparing puts us in chains. It paralyzes via confusion, distraction and exhaustion. We're so focused on what we don't have and what we need to accomplish that we completely miss what's been given to us in the moment.
We have a Father who loves us, who disciplines us, who gives us exactly what we need, step-by-step. We have a Father who equips for His call and doesn't overwhelm. We have a Father who is patient. We have a Father who is the Wonderful Counselor. We have a Father who invites us to rest in His presence through obedience.
God isn't telling me, "Hey, apply to grad school." He isn't telling me, "You are to be a travel journalist." He isn't even telling me, "You need to pursue a life of missions."
For several months, He's been telling me, "Go."
What'll happen, I don't know. What's after the World Race, I don't know. What I'll become, I don't know.
As I sit here sipping a cup of coffee and watching the snow fall, I can't help but think about how irresponsible those words probably sound to the world. And for that, I'm encouraged.
"Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God's will is—his good, pleasing and perfect will." -Romans 12:2
All for Him,
Julie
