All New Things
When the first day of January hits, I pop out of bed and begin dreaming of what I want to accomplish over the next 365 days. Usually I commit to reading a certain number of books, and every year I try to set a goal for my health. In the past I’ve set some over-ambitious goals (train for a marathon, for instance, or work out 80 percent of the time). Last year I decided to choose one small health-related thing per month and work on it. I called it “Krista’s Year of Healthy Living.”
I was successful. What I defined as “healthy” varied from month to month. In January I committed to drinking more water. In February I decided to switch to natural deodorant. (This is not for the faint of heart. There is absolutely a period of time when you will stink as you detox from the aluminum in antiperspirant. You’ve been warned.) Later in the year I joined some friends and cut out gluten, dairy, and sugar. That one felt daunting, but I did it. I had some slip-ups, but I got back on the wagon and have remained strong.
As the year went on, I began to run out of changes to make. Yet I had this nagging feeling that I needed to do something about my relationship with God. I’ve been all over the place in my relationship with him. I grew up in a Baptist church, then I attended a deeply conservative, deeply evangelical Assemblies of God church. I left after being wounded and decided I’d never darken the doorstep of any church again. It took ten years, but God eventually got hold of me, and then I started attending a church that fell somewhere in the middle of the other two churches’ continuum.
In all three of these places, I operated from a spot with rules and boundaries about what I was supposed to believe and how I was supposed to behave. Those rules felt like they could contain me safely when I felt too big for God to handle. When I felt like I was too much, I trusted in the “supposed to” and “should.”
For a long time, I liked having a framework for my faith. I didn’t believe I was putting God in a box, yet I liked having a system to guide me as I stepped back into a space I’d never expected to willingly inhabit again. I wanted to know God and have a relationship with him again, and goodness, how he so boldly met me exactly where I was!
Then something happened. My faith began to outgrow that system, that box (because the reality was I had put him in a box—a big one, but a box nonetheless). The framework I had made less sense to me. Time had honed my ability to discern what I was learning and to read the Bible and listen to people whose opinions were different from my own. I began to experience discomfort in the evangelical church space, and what I’d done previously was say, “Well, this is hard. I quit.” This time, though, I was part of a church staff—a group of people I loved dearly, even when we didn’t always agree theologically. I couldn’t walk away, and besides, walking away from people and a place because I was hurting and confused wasn’t how I wanted to live my life anymore.
I wrestled and prayed and cried and worshipped and begged God to help me through the process. I was ready to say I had successfully met my goal and that it was time to walk away.
God wouldn’t let me do that, however. He made me see this hard thing through, and he made me realize that my year of healthy living didn’t need to include a goal about my faith. It needed to include a decision to stay with him no matter what staying with him looked like. Of course, I knew this is what I needed to do, even if it felt so absolutely hard.
In May I got into a car and drove away to start my life over in a new place with a new job with all new people. The newness was overwhelming some days, even for an extrovert like me. Yet the one thing I felt in my soul was that God wasn’t new and God wasn’t different. God had told me to stay with him when I was petrified of my changing faith, and I did it even though it was scary. I was new and different, but God was the same.
It was hard watching my faith change. Honestly, it’s still hard watching my faith change, and yet I hope it never stops changing. I hope that every high and every low in my life strengthens my connection to God, gives me more clarity, and brings a deeper understanding that what I need more than a year of healthy living is a life of healthy trusting in his goodness.
In Isaiah 43:19, God says to the Israelites:
“Look, I am about to do something new;
even now it is coming. Do you not see it?
Indeed, I will make a way in the wilderness,
rivers in the desert.” (CSB)
God is making a way through the wilderness of my heart–and yours. Through the fears and changes, he’s reminding us that he brings newness to hurt and goodness where we feel bleak.
This year is new, and he’s bringing newness and goodness. I welcome it all.
is a new transplant to the Austin area, after spending nearly her whole life in Southern California. She is a case manager at Austin Angels. Krista loves bright colors, dogs, reading, cross stitching, and making new friends. Her first book, Four Letter Words, is available on Amazon.
Photograph © Austin Neill, used with permission
One Comment