A year ago I sat at the kitchen table of a woman I respect and call friend and mentor. After quickly catching up on each other’s lives, I slid the job description across the table. I felt a rush of wild emotions—I knew how she responded would powerfully impact how I moved forward.
The conversation that followed stoked the brewing flame for the dream detailed on the two 9×11 papers, now covered in cookie crumbs. She was excited, hopeful, honest. Our time together ended with a prayer for discernment and an open heart to follow what God had for me, for our family.
And while that conversation served as a catalyst for permission to say “yes” to God, “yes” to brave and scary things as a woman and a mom, one thing she left me with has proven to be something I will carry with me forever, “Whatever you do, write it all down. Start now. Whether you move to the Netherlands or not, journal how God moves and what He does in and through you in this process.”
So last night as I updated the journal on this week’s happenings, I flipped back to the first pages. The long intro wasn’t from a year ago, but the fourteen years I had caught up on when I began the journal last year. God’s story unfolded before my eyes, again.
My spirit was renewed as I was reminded of God’s faithfulness and goodness. I was brought back to the exact moment where I knew someday I would be involved in international missions. The moment I promised God I would go anywhere, do anything. The moment I knew God would one day call me back to the Netherlands. The moment I cried out to God to take away my desire to move there. The moment God told Steve to “go” and I knew our lives would never be the same. And all the moments in-between.
I’m so thankful for this little book, and all the words that tell a story of God’s good work on a journey that is so much bigger than me.
Whatever is before you, whatever you are crying out to God for, start writing it down.
The enemy likes to tempt us into believing God’s faithfulness is a joke. That He is a silent God, an arms-crossed bystander in our lives, instead of the real and present and active and intimate God He truly is. A God who speaks into our circumstances, able to breathe His Kingdom life into our brokenness or questioning.
He’s a God of miracles, friends. Even if they don’t always come in big, show-stopping acts on the center stage of our lives; His miracles are in the little things, too. And eventually all the little things equal the big things. And by writing it all down we are able to see His merciful hands leading and protecting us the whole way through.
Because usually on our journey from point A to point B, God has much more in store for us than getting to where we are going. He wants to use these journeys to transform our hearts, drawing us closer to Him and shaping us in His likeness.
Our journey to the Netherlands looks much different than it did a year ago–the actual job description now irrelevant to what lies ahead. But looking back, I can see how each step forward has prepared the way for what is to come. And once we get there, the story will still be unfolding; the next chapter beginning.
Our God is more concerned with our transformation than destination, our heart posture than position.
What a good, adventurous and loving God we serve.
