One Small Life

It’s a good thing I didn’t know what waited at the bottom of this particular cliff — I’m not sure I would’ve had the courage to make the leap.

When I resigned my position and marshaled my savings last spring, I had little more to go on than a strong impression from God and a hazy vision of something called LightWater Mission. Flushed with the call of adventure and more than a bit proud of my obedient but uncharacteristically risky undertaking, I was convinced the name of Jesus would be splashed all over my steps — for His glory, not mine, of course … though I wouldn’t have minded basking in the reflected glow.

From the early days of my faith journey, I have been fascinated by dramatic stories of the Lord’s provision, of manna falling from the sky and into the mouths of His starving saints, just when their strength was at its lowest ebb. Now I would have the chance to experience such miraculous moves of God for myself. I would see His provision, follow His direction, and countless lives would be blessed by my incredible spiritual discoveries. I was dreaming and scheming full speed ahead, bathing my plans in prayer and seeking wise counsel, as all the savvy saints do. Surely I was on the threshold of some spectacular Kingdom endeavor. Any day now, the Spirit would reward my dutiful waiting and working with a grand revelation of the Master Plan. Angels would sing, doubters would confess their lack of faith in my discernment, and all would live happily ever after.

Allow this chastised dreamer to admit, somewhat sheepishly, that that’s not exactly how things have played out …

I’ll spare you the details and cut to the chase: I’m having to start all over. Rather than being the face of some influential women’s ministry — changing lives and transforming relationships at every turn — I am facing a season of hiddenness as an unattached, unemployed 30-something, once again living under the roof of my gracious parents.

Um, let’s try that again …

I’m being given the chance to start over.

And really, who doesn’t want a second chance now and then? You see, before my pride and selfish ambition could run unchecked and lead to a mighty fall, God put out His hand and caught me. Rather than letting me mar with my sticky fingers the beautiful something He was giving me a glimpse of, He’s holding it safely, just out of my reach. He’s tucking me away in a quiet corner of the world where He can cover me with His love and secure my undivided attention. And while here — waiting in the wings, as I like to think of it (“May the Lord reward your work, and your wages be full from the Lord, the God of Israel, under whose wings you have come to seek refuge.” ~ Ruth 2:12; see also Psalm 91:4) — I believe He has all sorts of things He wants to teach me, to prepare me for what’s ahead and to show me how to really live.

Things like …

humility.
gratitude.
patience.
hope.
trust.
self-giving.

You know, all the good stuff! Life lessons I need more than just a vague awareness of, and ones that might take a bit of pounding to get worked into the core of who I am.

But since I’m in confession mode, I should probably own up to the something in me that chafes against the restrictions of a small, hidden life. I too often identify with that mouthy bit of clay, railing at the Potter for shaping me for common use. (see Romans 9:20-22). I dream about doing something noteworthy, something remarkable, living full and leaving a legacy. But I have this feeling that my perspective on all those concepts is about to undergo a major shift.

I can’t say I’m completely on board with this. There is plenty of stubbornness still dragging her feet, selfishness kicking up dust. But I want to be on board; I want to have a heart that’s willing, a life that’s submitted to the glory of the One who calls …

Lord, if this is what You want for me — if the small gate and narrow road really is the way to life, as You say — then that’s what I want. I want to live a life small enough to fit through that gate, nimble enough to go all the way down that road with You.

If this is Your way to life, then this is the way I choose. Lead on, Lord Jesus — I’m right behind You!

Heaven help me. 😉

Amen.