Dieu et moi faisons de la musique…

“The LORD will keep you from all harm—He will watch over your life; the LORD will watch over your coming and going both now and forevermore.” –Psalm 121:7-8

This is the watermark of my story and the promise God gave me Monday, October 11^th. That morning we awoke early to set out on our 11 hour adventure preceding the new life adventure awaiting us in Medford, Oregon. I was blessed once again in knowing He was with us, His hand upon us, His heart pouring forth blessing as we followed Him.

We were accepting His invitation: “new life”. I felt as though He was standing there, hand outstretched, smiling with strength and irresistible love calling me to Himself, to take that faithful hand and walk with Him into something far greater than anything I could possibly ask or imagine. I had longed so much and dreamed for so long to get away with my Jesus.

But before He took us down this path, He had to break away so much that bound me. When I first threw my girlish hopes into the idea of getting away with Jesus, it had a different motivation lingering with it: self -identity. I wanted to go off and become my own and establish a certain “Monica” that had only been in thought and theory. But Jesus saw far better than me what was good and perfect. So instead of embarking on some idealized journey of identity, He stole away my passion, broke my ambition, and left me waiting sometimes in such thick darkness to what He was doing and whether or not I would make it. But I think today is a testimony that I have, and not by anything of my mental will power or stupendous faith, but purely by the fact that Jesus draws near to the broken-hearted, that He carries us when we finally realize that we aren’t nearly strong enough to walk the road of life.

So I waited. Sometimes I wondered if I was falling away. A year had gone by, and I seemed worse off than I had been: back in high school when I had zeal and actually read the Bible. But Jesus convicted me, and so encouraged my heart, with the story of the Israelites in the desert. I had been looking back on my walk with the Lord, believing that I had been better off before; I had been looking back to Egypt thinking everything was so much easier there. Just as the Israelites had talked of their place of bondage like some fond memory that seemed so sweet in the midst of their wandering, I, too, found myself hovering on the past as something far sweeter than God’s deliverance. Jesus was telling me through this that I was in bondage and everything He was doing in that year was delivering me from it. And now, I see this long road as one of blessing. “My Father… is greater than all; no one can snatch [me] out of my Father’s hand” (John 10:29). He alone keeps me. And He has.

Since walking this broken road, or rather being carried through it, I suppose He’s found it good and right to call me away. And in this I now find relief and a new longing to simply know Him: know the sweetness of my Father, the love of my Husband, the grace and goodness of my dearest Friend. I have come to a decision of faith over fear that stood between me and Jesus; it alone held the tilt upon His open-handed invitation. My whole self needed abandoned to His faithfulness, care, and provision “for life and godliness” (see 2 Peter 1:3). I had to choose to simply believe and bank on what the Word says about God. And in it, I have found freedom.

This is the introduction to my story. Therefore, Danny and I finally began our journey down to Medford—the place He had called “a haven” and “the promise land” for us.  We were going to be with the Lord, to follow Him and make dwelling with Him in this new place. Psalm 65:4 is written in my promise book: “Blessed are those You choose and bring near to live in Your courts! We are filled with good things of Your house, of Your holy temple.”

The move in itself wasn’t the only “step of faith”, you might say. It was the beginning to a series of digging down deep, touchin’ the “touchy” stuff in our hearts. And, for me personally, I faced the very thing of “live by faith and not by sight”. So as I chose the way of faith, God rushed in with sweet blessing. I know this is part of the new life He desires to lavish me with; it’s truly a new life of crazy faith. Hasn’t been necessarily easy. But I have become convinced that it is worth it. All to know my Jesus.

In lieu of my “faith decision”, God provided the comfort and encouragement I needed to sustain me in faith. Because I found that, even after choosing to believe and obey God, the way is not entirely easy. In fact, crazier things began to take place and other doubts and fears would loom; the enemy pursued me, tempting me with “did God really say…” and everything that had been so natural to me and my though-life. So there, too, I was met with the perfect word (and, I mean, right in the midst of the craziness): “Times of darkness come to the faithful and believing disciple who is walking obediently in the will of God” (Streams in the Desert, Oct. 7^th entry).

So we had been driving for about two and a half hours. Kennewick was our first pit stop where we also enjoyed a good bit of Subway. We’d made great time. Back on the interstate heading south: I followed Danny in the ol’ Buick feeling more comfortable having him lead in the u-haul. We neared the edge of town and found ourselves hitting the last bit of traffic lights on the way out. At the last, which perhaps I hadn’t even really seen coming, I glanced to the left out my window for a mil-a-second look and turned back realizing that Danny was nearly stopped only feet in front of me. My foot slammed the brake. But I already knew the horrid feeling that I wasn’t going to make it. Right into the steel bumper of the u-haul my car finally stopped. I was astonished. Danny quickly pulled away to cross the intersection and find the shoulder. For a second I sat in shock and then quickly made my way into hysteria. I couldn’t believe it. The man sitting in the turn lane at my left asked if I was ok; he came over to my door while Danny sprinted across the street to the car. I could only cry. My first accident. And the steam from the hood told me the car was lost. Danny had me slowly maneuver the car across and to the shoulder. I was fine aside from my shock and tears. We were both ok. Even the u-haul made it with barely a scratch. But the car was totaled.

So began our adventure! Our car was towed and I found myself on the phone with Nancy Atkins who I knew had lived in the tri-cities. My dad was already getting ready to head down to join us and get us the rest of the way down. But I was hoping that we might find some kind of respite with one of her friends. She made the contact and Jackie Wade gave me a call. Oh my goodness, what a sister in Christ. Provision and blessing thus commenced. She took us to her home ten minutes away and welcomed us in to rest, eat, whatever we needed. She helped us make contact with one of Nancy and Marty’s friends who owned a collision auto place in town. Free of charge, our totaled car was towed to his place where he freely kept it until further decisions were made. Jackie, and the tow truck guy, both helped us unload our poor car into Jackie’s van.

That night my dad arrived and we were all invited to stay with the Wades. We were overcome with their hospitality: beds, dinner, and sweet fellowship. How good is God? He had held true to the promise: watching over us and keeping us from harm. How could we ever have experienced such provision had the little “bum in the road” not taken place? Praise Jesus.

So here I am today, the 12^th, writing as we continue this excursion. My dad follows us in his car as we near our new home. What a blessing it is to have him along, and that he could even break away to come and help us. I’ve gotten to sit with my dad as we drive and listen to him share how much God has been working in his heart through everything. I am so entirely blessed and spoiled to have such a sweet, loving dad AND Father.

Only about an hour and a half away: my excitement is renewed. Joy floods my heart. And anticipation sweeps me away with the road now behind us.