Life in Transition

My favorite baseball player of all time is Cal Ripken Jr.  He had a 21 year career, and is regarded as one of the greatest shortstops to ever play the game.  He holds the record for the most consecutive games played at 2,632.  That is 16.25 seasons without missing a single game, taking a single sick day, or spending one second on the disabled list.  That's an incredible, unbreakable streak.

But perhaps an equally incredible statistic, Cal spent all 21 of his seasons with the Baltimore Orioles. 21 seasons, 21 years of his life, with one organization.  That doesn't happen much today, and I'm not just talking about baseball.

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I woke up this morning as a resident of Spring, TX.  For the past four years, I had called Ft. Worth home.  I knew the roads, knew the people, knew the weather, and now I don't. An hour ago, I had to Google the closest Starbucks.  I have to learn new running trails, and hundreds of new names.  I have to learn to sleep in a different room, shop at different stores, and sweat in more humidity.

Stuff Cal Ripken never had to deal with during his career.

I've wrestled a lot during the moving process with why I was dragging my wife through the tearful goodbyes and the stress of packing.  I've wracked my brain with reasons to stay in Ft. Worth, to keep things comfortable and easy.

I want to know what it feels like to be in the same place, with the same people, at the same workplace for 21 years.

I loved my home in Ft. Worth.  I loved working at The Church at the Crossing, and with the students of Aledo.  Loved it more than any other place I have done ministry.  I met my wife in Ft. Worth, and some of my best friends.  I finally was able to call it home.  

I don't want to be known as the guy who moves from place to place to place, searching for something that will satisfy in the way I want to be satisfied.  Those thoughts have been my life since we found out we'd be moving.

And it wasn't until our final goodbyes that they were put to rest.

Until this week, each move I had made in my life happened because I was afraid.  Afraid of never moving out of my mom's house.  Afraid of being alone.  Afraid of not being equipped for what I was doing.

Over the past few months, The Lord has spoken so clearly to Raven and I that this is what HE wanted for us.  That He had been preparing us, the students we loved so deeply, and the students we will begin to love so deeply, for this transition.

But that wasn't enough.  I needed a fleece, a talking donkey, a sun standing still.  I needed a sign, because of my decisions in the past.  I had scared myself out of transitions, because of all the other times I transitioned.  They were all on me, on my word, on my confirmation, and not the Lord's.

This time was going to be different.  And the Lord (not surprisingly) proved Himself faithful.

He spoke through pastors in three different states.
He spoke through an apartment complex owner that neither Raven nor I have or will ever meet.
He spoke through David Platt and Francis Chan over a year before we knew what was coming.
He spoke through a mom that I thought I could stop listening to once I turned 18.
He spoke through High School Freshmen who had no idea what they were saying.
He spoke through a toddler boy who can't even say his own name yet.
He spoke through Wells Fargo and Exxon.

So this morning, I woke up as a resident of Spring, and already call it home.  Jesus has made it so abundantly clear that He has something great for us to accomplish here.

If He's got something great for us to accomplish here, He's got something just as great for someone else to accomplish back in Aledo.  And that's when I realized it was time to go.  As much as I loved my home and family in Ft. Worth, God was bringing someone else to bring about the next pages in His plan there.

"Jesus said to him, 'no one who puts his hand to the plow and looks back is fit for the Kingdom of God.'" Luke 9:62 (ESV)

Jesus told us that if He leads us somewhere, we don't look back.  If we spend time looking back, we aren't fit for the Kingdom of God.  Sounds harsh, but it's the truth.

If I want to look back, then my place isn't with Jesus.  It's with me. Jesus moves us forward, to things that sometimes only He knows, only He can see.

Behind us are the things we know, the things we are good at, the things we don't need faith for.  In front of us are the things that we can only hope to accomplish because Jesus is in charge.

We aren't looking back.  We will still carry on relationships and conversations with the people we love. But we won't look back wondering what we might have missed, what we could have done if we had stayed.  Because then we will miss what He brought us here to do.  And I want to be fit for the Kingdom of God.

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I'm starting the streak all over.  21 years to go.  I pray that Raven and I are able to stay here for a long time, move into our house, see our kids grow up, grimace as our hair turns gray or falls out, and glorify our Provider and Rock until our bodies give out.

But I also know that when we desire to let Jesus use us as He wants to, that might not be the case.  It might be another four years and gone, or 10, or 43.  I know He already knows where we are then.

Here's to life in Spring.  May Jesus be glorified.