Except God

I haven’t blogged in over a year. It’s been one of the craziest years I’ve had in a long time,

maybe ever. Now, under the shadow of the global health pandemic, I am finally forced to slow down and think, process, feel.

It’s a forced sabbath for a nation that prides itself on the fast and instantaneous. I wonder if God sits up and heaven and laughs at all the people sitting in their homes, squirming under a Presidential order of “rest.”

I’ve enjoyed the break honestly. It’s given me time to pause, reflect, and to heal from emotional wounds that have been bleeding for quite some time. It’s a rest, a rest before transition.

Transition.

I don’t know where life is taking me right now. The lease on my apartment ends in seven days. The space I have called home for nearly three years, is for the most part, empty.

I’ve got a mattress on the floor, and a suitcase full of clothes in the closet. Everything has gone on, and I’m holding on to the last vestiges of my old life, without having a real grasp on what the new life will look like.

Trust.

So I find myself in a moment of extreme trust. I don’t know what’s ahead, and I’m shaking free of what’s behind. And I have only one thing to hold on to, one firm assurance. Well, two actually.

God infinitely loves me.
He is good.

Beyond that, I am not sure of anything anymore. Everything that could be shaken has been shaken. Over the last six weeks, even the basic fabrics our culture have come undone and called into question the structure of our very daily lives. Nothing is unshakable.

Except God.

So I put my trust in God, and do what’s in my hands to do for the day. Hoping, believing that the answers come in time.

While I wait, I deep clean my apartment. It’s cathartic. It’s release. I get it. And while I clean, I keep asking God, “What’s next? What’s next?” And I get no answer. The only instruction I get are “Clean out from under the oven.” So, I move the oven out of it’s spot, and spend the day mopping and scrubbing three years worth of grime from the place I will no longer inhabit.

And I believe. I believe that there’s no real answer. Except God.