Stop the Rollercoaster

Yesterday, I felt it happen.

Stress came knocking at the door.

Everything was going smoothly - as smoothly as life can go when one quickly, dramatically changes directions.

Stress whispered in my ear. "Surely it can't all be ok. You can't really be at peace like this, can you? Nothing ever goes this smoothly. You're missing something."

So, like I used to, I found something to worry about.

But the way I started worrying was different than the way I used to worry.

This was not the panicking, sickening worry that I've always felt before. What satan had tried to instill in me, God had transformed into something productive.

What had been intended to harm, God had redeemed. And He has been using it all day to push me forward.

I got a hold of a few of my closest friends and asked them to spend the day in prayer with me about the decisions I needed to make. I was juggling back and forth between a few options - all of which now center around what I could use when I go back to Africa.

All day long I went back and forth. A mental tug-o-war.

At one point I just threw up my hands and asked, "God, what do you want me to--"

He interrupted me.

"Love my children."

There would be no signs for me this time.

No doves or windstorms.

My prayer specifically was that God would not have to resort to using visual aides. That I would be in tune enough with the Spirit and who I am within Him, that my heart would know the answers I needed.

That I would have peace and find affirmation within my soul about this decision.

So I drove home after work, strategically taking the long way so I could pass by St. Luke's.

Just to see.

Just to check and make sure.

"Stop the rollercoaster."

Good thing the light turned red. Because I stopped the car.

Not a sign.

But instructions.

A proverbial, "Get over it, Anna. You know the answer."

I stayed on the rollercoaster for a few more hours.

Up and down.

Projecting fears and anxieties onto future days, schedules.

Until tonight.

When I found myself in a bad part of town.

Carrying a loaf of bread.

And I remembered...

Jan 15, 2009:
It might be a stretch to think that a little, middle-class, white girl could cause a lot of change.
And it might be a stretch to think that this is what I will do for the rest of my life.
But this makes sense. On a level that things haven't made sense on in a very long time.
Because I just want to help people.
Sing for those who have no voice.
In twenty years, we will see if I was right. If this is what I was meant to do with my life. There's no way of knowing today.
(And you can remind me of this full feeling when thing get really rough over the next few years.)

-

I walked into the apartment tonight and ran headlong into the peace I'd been looking for.

What was I thinking?

I forget, sometimes, that God builds us up like building blocks.

That every season of brokenness does not tear us all the way down to the ground.

And so I expected, after Africa, for my calling here in the States to change.

I assumed that what God had been leading me towards before was not interconnected with what He's leading me towards now.

Except that, in reality, He's been preparing me for this all along.

He knew my path curved this way a long time ago.

Which is why He created me the way He did.

Why He jumps for joy when I learn not to be anxious, but to pray about everything.

-

So after a single day of dedicated prayer, I am reminded.

Of the refugee from the Congo who sat next to me in that social work class.

Of my passion.

Of God's goodness.

Of God's faithfulness.

Of God's love.

-

After a single day of prayer, the next step has been revealed.

And the Father didn't have to resort to props to get my attention.