This moving thing.
It’s messing with me in all sorts of ways.
With my routine. With my comfortable and familiar. With my control. With my ownership of, well, anything.
And I’m not even moving that far away.
I suppose any move involves a certain degree of figuring out and re-organizing and shuffling around and re-prioritizing.
But this is new for me.
I haven’t moved all that much, and this weekend, I’ll be moving for the first time in 5 years.
That’s right. I’m the single 20-something that 6 years later still has the same job I began the summer after I graduated college and still has the same roommate in the same rented townhouse I moved into one year later.
And now that roommate is buying a house. And so I’m moving with her.
And truth? There are parts of this move that scare me. There’s some unknown here. There are fears I haven’t yet fully figured out. Even some of the irrational ones (because even I know I’m being ridiculous about certain things…).
But when I share things about this move that are hard, no one seems overly surprised. Everyone seems to understand how disorienting and frustrating and draining a move is.
But it’s not something I remember hearing.
Oh, the living out of boxes thing, yes. The inconvenience of it all, sure.
But this heart stuff? Not so much.
But if there’s anything I’m learning in the process, it’s that this move is not just a physical thing.
And in some ways, because of that, it might be a catalyst for something really good. An opportunity to be pruned and refined.
But it’s hard. And some of it hurts. And I just can’t seem to get a grip on it.
I can’t get a grip on what’s going on in my own head. I can’t make myself think a certain way or react a certain way.
Even when I know my approach is all wrong. Even when I can see (when I force myself to look at it somewhat objectively) that I’m being ridiculous and self-centered and unChristlike.
But by trying so hard to wrap my own head around what’s going on in myself, I haven’t been seeking Christ nearly enough.
With all of my margin pushed out and my mental energy spent, I just plain haven’t been spending the time with Him that would actually begin to make the somewhat uncomfortable and unknown seem less like a big deal.
And I know that the more I seek to get Him right in front of my face, the more my own thoughts and inadequacies fade from significance and prominence.
And I know that the more I’m in His Word and intentionally mindful of His presence, the more anything seems possible because my hope and security and trust is firmly rooted in Him and His Word and His promises.
And I know that more than anything, I need Him in the midst of this.
I don’t expect a change in me to happen overnight. I will likely continue to handle aspects of this move ridiculously and immaturely and all wrong.
But I also know my hope … my trust and my security and my stability … is in Christ alone.
Even when my life is in boxes. Even when I’m spent and I’m at the end of myself and I have nothing left.
So through the hard and the hurt of this move, I still choose Him. I press on. I lean in.
And I pray with everything in me that through it all, He does in me what I cannot do in myself.
That He changes the parts of my heart that need changing. That He conforms me to His image. That this move, in all of its momentary discomfort, doesn’t win. That I would be more firmly grounded in Him.
“This God – his way is perfect;
the Word of the Lord proves true;
he is a shield for all those who take refuge in him.
For who is God, but the Lord?
And who is a rock, except our God?”
2 Samuel 22:31-32 (ESV)