Last night at house church we took turns describing where we feel like we're at this summer--what is God doing in our lives during this season? This was my answer:
I feel like a leaf floating along the surface of a river. Now let me describe why, as this seems like a random yet poetic image. We're going through the exciting and yet often frustrating rollercoaster season of looking for a house this summer. Among some 50 houses we've seen in about 3 months, we've found several houses we really like, and both opportunities have sort of flopped. No need to go into that story, but if you want details you can email me or I may put another post on this story later. Erika has really been feeling a frustration with this and just wants the whole process to be OVER--to be moved in and done with all of the hoping and wishing and wondering whether this house will be the one or not, etc. I tend to be more on the opposite end of those feelings, continually sensing that God is taking us through this process in His perfect timing and will lead us into the right house at the right time for the right price and in the right area. (Erika knows this too, but the frustration gets to her more often than it does me).
So this brings the whole leaf thing into the picture. In all of the ups and downs of house-hunting and (eventually) house-buying, I really do feel like we're being directed, pulled, along by the great current of God. It's a peaceful and steady stream most of the time, while sometimes there is a stronger, faster current, and sometimes the leaf may get dunked for a bit when the surrounding rocks create rapids around it. But either way we know the leaf is going to continue to float along at the pace of the river. As long as it stays in the river, it doesn't stop. And of course there is no question of trying to swim away or flail about in the water--flailing is not in the nature of a leaf. It is a floater--even when it falls from a tree, it sort of just glides gently to the ground.
This is what I am called to be. A floater, not a flailer. There are so many things in the society we live in that scream to me that I'm supposed to flail about and swim this way or that--to latch onto this rock jutting out next to me because it looks quite secure, or to glue myself to that big hunk of clay because surely it's not going anywhere any time soon. To do my own thing, to look out for number one and nothing else, to kick and scream so as not to sink....
But then there's this other voice inside of me--the one that is softer than the gentlest whisper--which says, "Just float along and trust me. I'll take you where you're supposed to go." And I realize this is what I was created to be--a floater, not a flailer.
And so I rest in God and trust in Him. He'll take us where we're supposed to be.
