New Horizons

Stagnant 

It seems like yesterday, I took all that I owned (selling and donating much of it), packed my little Jeep Liberty, and drove into the unknown. After a short visit to a friend in Alaska, I discovered there was no place that felt more like home. Though my family remains there, and I miss them often, Minnesota stopped being my home some time ago. I can't say when or exactly what the shift was, but I ceased being a resident and more like driftwood waiting for the high-tide to pull me out to sea. 

I would wake each morning curious about what would happen that day, yet somehow my heart was hoping and wishing that it would be the day I set out on a new adventure, to see things I've never seen before, learn a new culture, experience a new climate, and find some peace. Life had become a humdrum of repetition. I worked hard and earned plenty of money, but for what? There was no goal, money for the sake of money was worthless. Most people seek money to support their family, yet I had learned that's not the life for me. 

So, each day, I set my eyes on new horizons, waiting for that direction, that idea worthwhile enough to give it all away and stake all I have on the risk. I don't believe in happenstance. I don't believe in accidents. I believe there is a God who desires the best for everyone, and when we lean into that, and seek to follow the guardrails set up to protect us from ourselves and this manic world, we find His best for us. 

A Full Surrender

While I prepared to visit Alaska, I decided that the time was meant for rest, writing, hiking, being in nature, singing songs, reading The Word, and perhaps most importantly prayer. In my mind it was a pilgrimage of sorts, going off to the mountains to seek God, ask Him questions, listen for answers, and ultimately be near Him without other distractions of demand and relentless rigor. 

I expressed to a mentor of mine that my plan was to hike, write, read, pray, hang out with my buddy, and rest, but if God saw it fit to wreck all my plans, that would be alright, too. When I spoke my heart, we both laughed knowing that I had essentially challenged God to move. There was a weight to the words that I was shocked about, a surrender like none other I had experienced before that moment. There was also an overwhelming sense of peace, assurance that, yes, God would move. He would choose to meet with me in Alaska. 

Meet with me, He did. After a week and a half of relaxing, writing, singing songs, hiking, reading The Word, and praying, God moved. It was so seamless, so swift, I never could have imagined it or seen it coming. There was one more step of surrender. I would have to step outside my comfort zone and do something I had never done before. In the middle of a worship service in a church I had never been to, God told me clearly that I needed to talk to the lead pastor after service. 

A Turning of the Tide

I couldn't say why, or that I was even particularly interested in making myself known to the lead pastor of this church, I had just walked into for the first time. Still, the Spirit of God would not relent, so I said, “fine, only after service is complete.” I sat there near the back of the room, waiting for the pastor to become free enough to approach. It didn't happen. So I said to myself, if I am able to make it out next week and get the same sense, I do it then. 

A week later, in the middle of service, the Spirit of the Lord fell upon me again and insisted that I speak with the lead pastor. I again agreed half-heartedly and somewhat reluctantly. Near the end of service this time around, the pastor invited people to speak with him about any questions or comments from a challenging and controversial sermon he preached. Again, I waited at the back of the room until things seemed calmer, and I was able to build up the courage to face this man with a question…but I had no idea what to ask him, or why I was supposed to speak with him. 

Approaching the front of the room, my heart quickened and adrenaline began surging through my veins as I stood in a dwindling line to speak with the pastor. I nearly bolted several times, looking around the room for an excuse and excuse not to face this man. But I could find nothing. There was only one option. I would speak with the pastor about what only God could have known and prepared for my lips to speak because, in my mind, it was a race of frivolous and silly things that had nothing to do with the sermon at all. 

I greeted the man, shaking his hand and explaining my situation. I was a visitor, it was only my second time ever in his church, and I wasn't even from Alaska. I felt insane, yet I continued on to tell him that I did not know the purpose, but I believed that God has asked my to speak with him. Then came the stangest and most coherent part of our entire conversation. 

“Would you be willing to grab a coffee with me and tell me about the vision, mission, and values of your church? What is the end goal, the dream that God has asked you all to work toward?”

For a second time that summer, I was absolutely stunned by my own words. The directness also seemed to take the wind from his sails as he stumbled over some words attempting to figure out how to express that he simply doesn't do that. Yet he stared at me and said, “Here's the thing, I never do this, but something is telling me that I need to speak with you too.” And that was that. God had captured both of our attention and was ready to move in unimaginable ways. 

Kindred Spirits

Within the week, I was connecting with people I could never have hoped to meet. I was working within my giftings for youth and a camp-type situation. I then joined a work crew to help them complete the renovations of one of their buildings, which would become a type of parsonage for a new pastor and his family while also having two efficiencies where out-of-town ministers could live and pass through. I woke every morning was given a ride to the work site, completed any job they passed my way from morning until later afternoon, showered, then joined them every Wednesday and Thursday evening for their youth activities. 

Though I'll have to go into more detail another time, I learned so much in that month and a half. I had become so tightly knit to this community that it truly felt like I had found a place of kindred spirits, unlike anything I have known in all my travels internationally and nationally. When the time came for me to return to Minnesota, my mind and my heart were made up. Even if I had nothing to live on, no job to start with, and no money to support myself, I would move to Alaska and live here because God wasn't finished, and I was done running from the things God had asked me to do. 

And that's exactly what I did. I spent a week at home with my family, which was an insane adventure in itself. Then, I returned to work with their senior high summer camp and stayed through early September until an official decision could be made about a potential work situation. As it happens, they could offer housing but no stipend and no benefits, so I would essentially be moving to a new state with no money, no coverage, and no income, but I would have a room. I knew it was right and exactly what God was asking of me. 

“Will you follow me; even if it means losing everything?”

“Will you follow me? Even if it means you will have no way of supporting yourself?”

“Will you follow me into the worst logical situation? Even if there is no clear date or deadline to the struggle and potential poverty?”

Each time, my answer was yes. I had seen too much at this point, wasting so much time on worthless endeavors, to turn around and choose anything less than full surrender, owning nothing, and beholding everything. 

I now write to you from one of the very rooms I helped to remodel. Though early everything in this room was gifted or donated to me so that I would have a furnished room to live in, I helped to build these walls with my two hands. God has a sense of humor I've often found, and within that humor is the deepest abounding love and care I've ever known.