Moving On

It’s the end of May. It’s coldish and rainy and I’m snuggled up on the couch, reminiscing and relaxing, when I remember what I told Bob yesterday – “I need to write more. To just sit down and write. To not overthink what I’m going to say, but to just write.” I then remembered that he and I have a website which hosts a blog and it’s been a while (read: never) since I’ve written something.

I had coffee with Leah this morning. Leah Dykema and I became fast friends when I started my first internship at New Community/4th Reformed Church, and she quickly became a mentor. She and I have similar loves, interests, and gifts, and even though I haven’t been an intern at NC4th for quite some time, she has and continues to be one of my biggest supporters and cheerleaders. We get together for coffee about once a month, filling each other in on the goings-on in our lives, and she wanted to hear more about the move that Bob and I are about to take.

And then it hit me: Bob and I are moving.

We’ve been packing and sorting, giving away and selling for a few weeks now. We’re starting to see a light at the end of the tunnel of duplicates and triplicates of things (I mean, we had two toasters. Why?) but though this entire process, it hasn’t actually hit me yet. The first place where Bob and I made a home together, the place that we love (and sometimes hate, lets be real: if it rains at a certain angle, water drips through the smoke detector in our room which then sets off every smoke detector in our house), the place where we have cooked and laughed, hosted parties and relaxed, studied, cried, and a whole host of other things – we’re leaving this place.

It was bound to happen. This is seminary housing after all, and even though I have (somewhere around) 2.5 more years left to go, it was a given that at some point in time, we would have to move.

I think it’s an especially weird transition for me, though, because this is the longest I have ever lived in any one place since graduating college in 2011. My typical way of doing things is to spend 6 months to a year in a dwelling place and then move on. My adult life so far has been marked by “the time I lived in those apartments” or “the time I lived in that house” or “the time I couch surfed for two weeks.” Living in these townhouses for just eight weeks short of two years meant that for the first time, I felt settled. 98% of our stuff had been unboxed. We bought furniture. We tried to figure out living situations. We gave most of the stuff left unboxed away to other people.

Just a year or so ago, when asked, “what do you see yourself doing in five years,” the answer was a firm, “I have no clue. Maybe being a transitional pastor, living in an RV with Bob and traveling America.” There’s still a part of me that wants to do that. But ever since I started my internship at En Vivo, it felt like a puzzle piece had snapped into place. Doing ministry alongside some of Bob’s and my best friends in a neighborhood that desperately needs love and getting to be a part of a community. For the longest time, even though Bob and I had a home here in Holland, there was still something in me that needed to find a place to belong. And for the time being, we have found it at En Vivo Church, on the corner of S. Division and Burton.

Every time I mention where our church is and where Bob and I will be living, we are met with blank stares followed by concerned glances. “You do know where you’re going, right?”

Yes.

“Not the safest neighborhood, is it?”

No.

No.

But Jesus didn’t call us to be safe and comfortable and happy, did he? No. Jesus said, “And you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, in Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.”

Even to the “unsafe” places.

If we only do ministry in the “safe” places, then we’re not going to the ends of the earth, are we?

Even if it means getting out of “safe” Holland.

Even if it means leaving the home that Bob and I started our marriage in and making a home somewhere else.

It’s the “Going” part of the great commission. We’re answering a call to move on. To continue going. To move directly to the places to which God is leading us.

God has opened so many doors for us – doors we never expected to open up just opened. And so now it’s time to move on.

This crazy dream we’ve been talking about and hoping about and dreaming about for years is turning into reality.

So when God calls us to move on, we will move on. That’s not to say it isn’t hard or it isn’t heartbreaking at times, but we have trusted God so far with this thing and we will continue to trust God with everything.

Your prayers are so very appreciated. And if you want to learn more about what we’re doing, I’d love to take you out for some coffee.

 

Love,

Lisa