In the next few weeks, we will pack up for the ninth time in ten years. I asked my 4 year-old if he knew why we were moving and he said, “Because we’ve lived here a long time?” We’ve lived here for 7 months.
This move does feel different. We are finally moving for a head job, which feels like what all the other moves were working toward, which means hopefully this one will stick. The town is precious and small and we’ve heard nothing but wonderful things about it. It really does feel like a great place to raise a family, so hopefully, we will finally be planting some deep, deep, DEEEEEP roots.
Oh, roots.
When I realized we were going to be moving again, I felt sick. No really, I felt physically ill at the thought. Not just the logistics of it, the to-do lists and the prospect of packing everything up again, but at the starting over with new people.
I am SO TIRED of being awkward. I am SO TIRED of being the new girl everywhere I go.
I long to feel comfortable in a room full of people. I long to go to a church where I know everyone and everyone knows me. I long for deep community and relationships that change your life, your marriage, your understanding of God.
I sat in bed that day after I realized we were going to be moving AGAIN and opened my bible to Psalm 107—the passage that just-so-happened to be my daily reading that day … and this is what it says:
“ Some wandered in desert wastelands,
finding no way to a city where they could settle.
They were hungry and thirsty,
and their lives ebbed away.
Then they cried out to the Lord in their trouble,
and he delivered them from their distress.
He led them by a straight way
to a city where they could settle.
Let them give thanks to the Lord for his unfailing love
and his wonderful deeds for mankind,
for he satisfies the thirsty
and fills the hungry with good things.”
We have been so immensely blessed in every town we’ve lived in. There is not a doubt in my mind that God has directed our path and gone before us each time, using each passing place to grow and change us through the people we’ve met and loved there.
But I feel like a wanderer in desert wastelands, finding no way to a city where I can settle. I feel hungry and thirsty, and I am crying out for God to lead my by a straight way to a city where we can settle. And I felt like God was whispering, "I GOT YOU. Take a deep breath. I hear you, and I know your desires. TRUST ME. I love you and I GOT YOU."
Maybe this is it. Maybe this next move will be it. Or maybe it won’t be.
But I do know this. The Israelites wandered in the desert for years. They were constantly on the move, knowing they were promised a place to settle …eventually.
Like them, we are promised a beautiful place to settle …. eventually.
But our Promised Land is not an earthly one. And our purpose on earth is NOT an earthly one. It's a heavenly one.
Maybe you’re like me. Maybe you feel like a wanderer. And maybe, like me, you long for roots. And God promises that to us. And even if it’s not on earth, even if we never find that place where we can settle here on earth, we are promised that in the next life.
So until then, let us plant heavenly roots.
Let us, with total abandon, love hard on every single person we encounter. Not so that we can plant roots in that one place, but to deepen our roots into heaven.
Let us, with full hearts, commit to a people and serve no matter how long we plan on being there. Not so that we can plant roots in that one place, but to deepen our roots into heaven.
Let us, without inhibitions, dive headlong into that community, that team, that school, those kids, those coaches, those wives. Not so that we can plant roots in that one place, but to deepen our roots into heaven.
These roots don’t grow from our feet, they don’t spider down into a house or a land or a town. These roots grow from our soul, they reach far beyond space and time. They travel with us from place to place. They grow deeper, faster, hold tighter. They are eternal.
God knows the desires of my heart. And He knows yours too. He knows what I need even better than I know myself. He knows yours too. If I need earthly roots, I trust he will provide them for me. But until then, I will plant heavenly roots wherever I go, because ultimately, this world is not my home.