I’ve given this series makes more and more sense as time goes by. I actually have never been pregnant, so I’ve
been basing this analogy entirely on secondhand descriptions; nevertheless, all this seems rather fitting.
last post, the timeline of my transition has changed quite a bit.
was to work part-time at the law firm and part-time with AIM; by the beginning of 2011, I’d be
full-time with AIM and no-time with the law firm. Historically, the boss had turned down
previous requests for part-time hours. But by the time I’d asked (on a Friday, I think), it was too late; all I could do was wait for his answer.
On a
Tuesday, I heard his verdict: he granted my request. Wow. I was so amazed and thankful for His favor. It’s all
going according to plan; everything’s falling into place, I thought.
My plan,
that is.
As I had
said before, the only thing that was keeping me back from going full-time
sooner was the matter of money. I owe three lenders and two credit cards a sizable chunk o’ change. Even with this gradual plan to be full-time
by 2011, my debts would not be paid off completely.
At least I could say that I‘m trying to do the sensible thing. Yet there was this debate I had going on with God:
Wasn’t it
enough that I said yes, God? Couldn’t
you cut me some slack and give me more time? Couldn’t you make an exception for me? I mean, half of my squad is joining the staff and I see how they’re
fighting tooth and nail to depend on You through others, and God, I don’t want
to have to struggle like that.
It’s not
that I can’t adjust to a simpler lifestyle. I know it’s possible because it happened. I more than survived. I did it for eleven months. Even the half a year before I left for the
Race, I made less than what I do now yet gave more than a tithe and lived
simply. My roommate and I went without
TV because I didn’t wanna pay for cable (that bunny ear antenna was useless).
I wanted to have my cake and
eat it, too.
But the Lord with His kindness leads me to repent of my lack of faith, of
heeding the lies that what I’m doing is begging for other people’s money. The truth is that the earth is the Lord’s and everything in it, including the money “I’m”
making now, and the money that needs to be raised to do this.
Now as I
type these words I can hear my Daddy tell me, “I’m not telling you to beg
others for money. I’m begging you for
the chance to let Me keep my promises to you.”
But
several weeks ago, that wasn’t clear to me. Talia had challenged me to fast and pray about adjusting the timeline,
without worrying about money.
So I
fasted somewhat that weekend. I finally
dove into Donald Miller‘s A Million Miles
in a Thousand Years. As I sat in a comfortable chair on the 2nd floor of Borders, my heart
practically leapt out of my chest with each turn of the page. Seth Barnes‘s posts on quitting echoed a bit
more loudly in the recesses of my short-term memory, too.
The God
who created everything and everyone and owns it all knows how my story will
end, He knew before there was time how He wanted it to start. And for all I know, He might just say, “you
know what, I want you home with me NOW” and my heart would stop and my
lungs would empty and I’d be gone.
What of
my objections to sooner rather than later then? All my arguments and explanations rendered
moot, reduced to poor excuses to procrastinate fulfilling my destiny. I’d regret not being reckless and relentless in my faith, for holding back.
And I’m
more and more convinced as I get older (it’s true, I don’t look it, but I am
indeed aging) that regret sucks so much worse than the alleged lack of stability and security.
Rodney described our generation well, that we’re in the danger of our “destiny being trampled
by complacency” (or something to that effect). I refuse to let
that happen.
in Hong Kong (or was it earlier?), “I will fight to mess you up,” and God
forbid I let him or Michael Hindes and their fighting on my behalf with their bold and dangerous prayers be for naught.
So though
it scared me quite a bit, I knew that Talia and Jeff had heard it right from
the Lord all along, that the Awakening was going to be a great way to
begin my tenure as full-time staff. A
week or so later, after chickening out twice, I dragged my fingers across the
keyboard of my laptop and printed my letter of resignation.
me: five weeks notice is plenty right?. . .
Jeff C.: yeah 5 weeks is plenty lol
My
colleague thought I was just putting my request for part-time hours official
with a hard copy of a letter. In the
most awkward, unbecoming, ambiguous way possible, I quit, setting the last
Friday of the month as my last day as a paralegal ever.
“We were
fine with you going part-time, you know that, right?”
“Yeah.” [“Oh God, what did I just do?!”]
So I
suppose that’s what it must be like to be pregnant and go into labor. Whether Mom is ready or not, the baby’s a’
coming. At thirty-six weeks, the timer
goes off and out comes the bun out of the oven.
Too late
and the bun will burn.
feel unprepared for this dream to be birthed, but He makes all things beautiful
in His time. And it’s almost time. . .
