Five years ago, at this moment, I was on the last leg of our move to Kathmandu. I was equal parts scared and exhilarated, terrified and hopeful. It had been a long, exhausting process just getting to the field, and finally getting on with it was a relief. At the same time, I was stepping into a new life without the support system I had come to depend on so deeply. I was already missing my best friend and composing emails to her in my mind about our travel adventures. I felt the weight of the ever-growing distance between what had been, and what would be. I was ready.
Except, of course, the what would be ended up looking so very different than we had expected. In 2019, I’m not writing this from Nepal. I’m sitting at my kitchen table in East Tennessee.
Whoa. Didn’t see that coming at all.
We all have chapters in our story where God adds an unanticipated plot twist. Maybe it’s a pregnancy you hadn’t planned, or a job offer that could transplant your family from your hometown clear across the country. Maybe it’s the loss of someone you had no reason to believe would leave you so soon, or an illness that robs you of your quality of life. Maybe it’s homeschooling instead of public school, or becoming a stay-at-home mom even though you spent a decade chasing that PhD. Maybe it’s ten kids when you thought you’d have two, or more money than you ever dreamed of having. It doesn’t matter what it is, good or bad or indifferent. It’s that circumstance that shakes you out of the sleepwalking of where you thought you were going and wakes you up in a place you hadn’t known you were headed.
For the past five years, my family has relived the last quarter of 2014 with a very real sense of PTSD. Please don’t think I’m using that term flippantly; depression, anxiety, agitation, nightmares, guilt, insomnia, and more have plagued nearly every member as our bodies have processed, again, those days of loss and trauma. I’ve spoken with others— people who have experienced some of those possible plot twists listed above— and learned that we are not alone. When God slams a door shut, even when you start to see the why, there’s a healing necessary. A journey of letting go… and learning to trust Him all over again.
See, we sit in the pews on Sunday and sing songs about deciding to follow Him, and how much we love Him, and how He is worthy of our praise. We listen to sermons where we are urged to trust and obey, and we bob our heads and underline Scripture and we know, we just know, that when it comes down to it, we’ve got this part down. We gather our kids for Bible study and remind them to be like Noah, who built an ark before he’d even seen a drop of rain fall, and not Jonah, who turned tail and fled when called to a task he couldn’t abide. We crank up the radio on the highway and belt out:
Spirit lead me where my trust is without borders
Let me walk upon the waters
Wherever You would call me
Take me deeper than my feet could ever wander
And my faith will be made stronger
In the presence of my Savior
And when the plot twist comes, when we turn the page and the narrative is interrupted… we falter.
We freeze up, waiting for God’s voice to pop on like it does when the ride you’re on at Disney pauses: “We’re sorry for the inconvenience. Please stay seated. The ride will begin again shortly. Have a great day!” We review the past, and look for the signs we missed. We scan ahead, hoping to see detour signs that will eventually get us to our intended destination, even if by another route. And when all that fails, and the true nature of this change in direction finally hits us, we’re suddenly confronted by the truth that when Jesus spoke of faith no bigger than a mustard seed, he was speaking directly to us.
Yesterday, at the dinner table, my husband and I took a moment when we thought everyone else was engaged in their own side conversations to remember that day five years ago when we sat in the Vancouver airport and began the journey that would eventually lead us here. Birdie, who was just 4 years old at the time— Jude’s age now— overheard and piped in, “I really don’t remember it.” Soon, everyone was sharing their own reminisces, and we all realized this: that this year, it feels different. Safer? Farther away? This year, the five year mark, doesn’t hurt quite as badly, or seem quite so difficult to walk through the what ifs.
Maybe it’s being settled here. Maybe it’s the explosion of missions work to which God has opened a door. Maybe it’s that 2019 started off with so much bad that we’re a bit numb. Maybe it’s that the memories are fading.
It’s probably little bits of all of the above. But more than that, I think it’s the fact that every believer, no matter how disruptive or drastic the plot twist, has to come to a place where you look this new norm straight in the eye and admit, again, that God is God and you are not. You have to humble yourself, daily, to God’s will and His purposes for you, and your place in the book that feels like it’s about you and your life… but isn’t, really. It’s about Him, and His Kingdom, and ultimately, His sovereignty over all. I think we, as a family, have finally come back to that place.
Clearly, it takes time.
But God is patient. He is, after all, a Father. He listened when we asked Him to take us to the place where our trust would be absolute. Little did we know that the place our faith would be most tested wasn’t in Nepal, but in America. Perhaps for you, too, a plot twist has stopped you cold. Here’s my hard-won bit of advice for you: don’t let this new where you’re following shake who you’re following. He is still trustworthy, He is still good. He will see you through this unexpected turn in events and carry you to the other side. And once you get there, He will bind your broken heart and give you a new vision for the next chapter. His vision… which wasn’t a plot twist, but His plan, all along.