Family Life
Summer has ended, and school has begun. For the first time, I wasn’t nervous for school to come. I found its presence to be the same as the day before – only the flip-flops are at home, and the tennis shoes are on, and the house is silent.
There is a familiarity in the school schedule now – like an old married couple has, so I embrace the day ahead. I rise early. Daniel cooks bacon and eggs. Elijah wakes 30 minutes earlier than his early bird time. The girls sleep sweetly, and I wake my Annabelle. They dress and eat. I brush hairs and heads.
We take first day of school pictures. I am eager to take memory shots of this day not because everyone will post their photos on social media, but simply for me and our stories.
We ride to school. We listen to Toby-Mac sing about “me without you.” I sing; I dance, and I imagine my neighbor gets a kick out of this as he sees me dancing to school in his rear view mirror.
We listen to Wally. Then, we pray for the first day jitters. I feel relaxed. Not rushed or worried we will be late. I know that in the days to come, traffic will thin, and navigating the route will be smoother, easier, and we will arrive earlier eventually.
Even though there is a familiarity, there is a tension in sending them to school. I still want to keep them with me forever. I continue to sense God leading us to stay there. Things could change, but I go where God goes.
Libby has started preschool, and there is a chaotic busyness to the school schedule, and in some ways, I am always falling behind.
Personal
In the days since school has started, I’ve gone from a heaviness to a lightness in trying to mold myself back into comfort, but still, I find my spirit still searching for truth and all the questions of what should I do?
At the heart of this season of a new pastor, I have waffled. I have not fully trusted man, but I have fully trusted God. This trust allows me to stay because I feel called to this holy ground.
At times, I’ve wanted to tuck my family in tight under my wing, and find a new place to be. The changes I have gone through at church have left me feeling all the feelings, and on any given day, these feelings arise. This year has been an emotional roller coaster, and there is still much year left. I sometimes cry and weep. Sometimes I am angry and mad. In the midst of the pain, I want to run and flee, far, far, away, and make my world smaller. Less noisy, less chaotic, and less fluent. Less painful and wearisome. I’ve just tried to be accepting, and where I am settling now is re-entry. I am trying, albeit not easily, to reattach myself to leadership roles and positions even while the questions remain unanswered.
Is there post traumatic stress syndrome for church change? The people are hurting, and the Savior is listening. I am afraid of writing too much – of affecting people’s emotions because I am not alone in trying to find my footing in the changes. People have at times found comfort in this blog, and I’ve found myself afraid of leading them astray.
There are some people loyal to their place of church. I have heard some members of my church called “Valleydale men,” meaning they will never go anywhere other than Valleydale. There is some admiration in this. I love my local church, Valleydale, but I am not a Valleydale woman. I am willing to move if the Spirit moves me. We must first be Jesus men and women, not devoted to institutions over God, as deceivers can arise anywhere. In the study I just finished, “Children of the Day” by Beth Moore, she said this,
“We are blessed to have limitless opportunities to study under many pastors and teachers but, if we do not go diligently to the Scriptures for ourselves, the question is not whether we’ll be deceived, but how often.”
This was part of her commentary of 2 Thessalonians 2:3, “Don’t let anyone deceive you in any way.” I realize that it sounds like I think my pastor is a deceiver, and I’m not trying to say that. I am saying that he is definitely a puzzle to me that I don’t think I will figure out anytime soon. What I aim to mainly say is be loyal to the Spirit – stay and go where He goes and leads you.
My friend, Dana, wrote this as her facebook status on February 7, and it seems fitting to share here,
“Living in reaction to the religious spirit is still living under its control. Living in reaction to having been wounded is continuing to empower that wound.
The enemy wants to convince us to BUCK our previous bonds, flip the world (or the church?) the bird, and swing to the opposite extreme — sometimes even in the name of Jesus.
But Jesus invites us to take His hand and walk meekly into the freedom He purchased for us, radically empowered by His Spirit. There’s a high road of humility He calls us to walk with Him. A road on which we’re hidden in Him, defined wholly by Him, and out of that place we are set ridiculously free to live wholeheartedly out of our core.”
I might be a INFJ (meaning I do let my gut guide me at times), but I don’t want to move in reaction to all the feelings alone.
Listen to the still small voice of God guiding you. Not man’s agenda or your own agenda or your bitterness or how could you’s, but the sweet sound of Savior calling you. Do you hear Him? Is He calling you to stay? to leave? to let go?
I think of Hosea marrying the prostitute, and retrieving her again and again – a picture of God’s tethered love to me. I am the prostitute and He is pure. He’s making me new, calling me to suffer well.
If I ask a church to love, I choose to stay in love, otherwise, my words mean nothing.
Could it change? As sure as the wind blows, I will go where the Spirit leads.
I so much needed to read these words today. I pray that I always follow Christ and not just my gut feelings because my guts will (and have) lead me astray.
Jamie, I resonate with your wrestling here – how much to share, what to hold back, what to risk with. Thank you for being brave and real. Your words, in that they reflect a spirit of waiting, reminded me of some words I read this morning by Frederich Buechner: “Even when we don’t know what we are waiting for, I think we are waiting. An ancient Advent prayer supplies us with the words. ‘Give us grace,’ it says, ‘that we may cast off the works of darkness and put upon us the armor of light.’ We who live much of the time in the darkness are waiting not just at Advent, but at all times for the advent of light, of that ultimate light that is redemptive and terrifying at the same time.” There are no slick and easy answers in this waiting, but you will live into it as you continue to follow him the best you can through the darkness that is waiting for the advent of light.