I like squad leading. Overall. Sometimes I just like it, and sometimes I really, really like it. But then moments happen when I want nothing to do with it. Sometimes it brings a breath of fresh air, like when a conversation turns into something of depth and richness, or when a new friendship is kindled after 4 months.
But other times it feels like I. am. suffocating. (Those are rare.) There’s also when I feel more like a participant than a squad leader (like my whole time with H squad) because I feel like I literally have nothing to give and that I’m sometimes going through more than they are.
But then there’s those sweet moments when my heart slowly awakens, like on a lazy Saturday morning, to the repeated realization that I LOVE squad leading.
I guess you can say that we’re in complicated relationship.
Because when you get down to it, my heart craves longevity. Consistency. Deep rootedness. I want to be in a place and invest in a long time. I want to be in relationship with people (of the same geographical location) for a long time. And the World Race instead brings change and inconsistency and new relationships and lots of tearful goodbyes and, quite honestly, guarded hellos.
You see. It’s complicated.
What the Lord has been showing me recently is that my heart longs for intimacy. To be intimate is to be loved and to be loved is to be known.
And I long to be known.
That’s the complication when you’re hardly in the same place for more than a few months, moving in and out of people’s lives, wondering if this is the last time you’ll ever see them again. A friend moves to Jordan. A friend that’s moving to Turkey. A new friend you say goodbye to in India. Any number of people from F and Z squad who have already begun and will begin their lives in different places. Eventually, H squad too. Countless people in Raleigh that I so wish I could stake a flag and confidently say that I’ll be back there again for a season of life, but I honestly don’t know. Maybe I’m naïve to believe that this isn’t how life should be.
I was dating someone before I left, and it didn’t work out. And I’m beginning to realize why it was so difficult when it ended, even though it was only for a few weeks.
It represented hope of those things my heart desires – intimacy and being known. And I traded it for everything I don’t exactly want – being unsettled and, well, not being known.
People say that the Lord usually moves in the 11th hour, right before [insert urgent situation] crumbles to pieces. I believe that to be true, but I also feel like I’m in the 17th hour. I mean Jesus came to Lazarus 4 days after he died. That’s literally like the 108th hour. I mean, sure, Jesus does raise him from the dead but I don’t think I can last 90 more hours before He does the same for me.
I never believed I would be hopping around for 3+ years with hardly a place that I feel like I could call home. Because it’s never what I wanted for myself.
But it has been good. It has been so, so good.
I guess that’s what this is. Doing things that I never wanted for myself but He knew was what I needed and was ultimately best. Teaching me intimacy through the most unlikely avenue. Teaching me trust and faith even when I didn’t ask for it. Teaching me to be farsighted when for so long I’ve felt so nearsighted. Teaching me that only He raises people from the dead, not my words or my strength or my effort. And He’s teaching me that on a personal level because a lot of times I feel like I’m Lazarus in the tomb.
So I’m waiting. Waiting for Him to move, Him to revive and restore, Him to instill, and Him to redeem. Yet my passivity wants to say, “I’ve done my part Lord. It’s your turn.” I was listening to a teaching yesterday about the challenge of waiting on the Lord. At the end the pastor looks at the Hebrew word for ‘wait’, which is qavah. Another definition of qavah is ‘to bind together’. When you’re waiting on the Lord you’re, in essence, binding yourself to Him.
You’re pursuing Him.
You’re searching for Him.
You’re questioning with Him.
You’re listening to Him.
Actively waiting. That’s weird.
It’s a complicated relationship with the Lord sometimes.
