staying faithful : choosing Home B

Over the past week, I've cried.

At home.

At church.

At Wegmans.

In the car.

Out of the car.

With people I love.

With people I've never met before.

With people I've now scared.

It's not so much in which situations I've cried at this point, but more in which I haven't cried.

This is a noticeably different state of affairs for me because even though I can be easily moved to tears (doesn't everyone cry during So You Think You Can Dance?), I tend to be a predominately positive person. One who can more often be seen making jokes with the employee at the register than openly weeping when being asked if I'd like cash back.

The source of this apparently ever-present emotion is overflow from being scared out of my mind. Or tear ducts, apparently.

I'm in the midst of taking some big leaps. I've quit all of my jobs, chosen not to renew my lease, and do not know where I'll be living or working in less than 2 months. So when I say I'm in the midst of taking some big leaps, what I mean is that I'm smack dab in the middle of the leap, hovering in the middle of the semi-stable ground from which I've leapt.

I'm free falling of my own volition because I believe in what I've plastered all over the place here: that life is best lived when we joyfully embrace our identity in Christ. And I know I'm capable of living up to that identity in a bigger and better way than I have in the past.

Amen? Amen!

But I'm still petrified.

Of basically everything.

That I won't find a job, that I will find a job but it won't be the right job, that I'll end up moving to a place I don't like, that I'll end up staying in a place I don't love, that I'll regret my decision/indecision, that I'm misinterpreting what feels like crystal clear conviction, that I'll make a mistake.

Mostly, I'm afraid of making a mistake.

I'm so afraid that I'm in the process of making a huge mistake.

I didn't realize that mistake-making was at the heart of what I feared until I was mid-workout yesterday, thinking of potential scenarios for September. One of them was ending up at my parent's house, unable to find a job. And I immediately thought, "Well, it'd be my own fault for making an error in judgement at some point in the job/location/life decision making process."

But then came the also immediate rebuttal, "Why don't you believe that My goodness is bigger than your decisions?"

And then, well, you know where this is going.

I cried.

Because I just felt so overwhelmed by God's love. As someone who puts an enormous amount of pressure on making the "right" decisions in any and every situation, I tend to feel responsibility for basically everything. And I tend to forget that ultimately, I am not in control.

As I was sitting on my yoga mat in tears while Tony Horton pumped out a few more reps on the TV screen (sorry for the lapse in action, Tony), I felt so wholly certain that God's goodness is bigger than my decisions. Truly. If in my heart I believe that I am doing what I'm convicted to do, then where is the mistake in that? If I end up being wrong, does that limit God's ability to take charge of the situation and use it for His good? If I am wandering so far from the beaten path that I'm in completely unbeaten territory, isn't He still sovereign to either use me on that new path or put me back where He originally intended or do something else altogether?

YES. Because as my mom is so fond of saying, Romans 8:28 is still in the Bible:

"All things work together for the good of those who love God, who have been called according to His purpose."

All things. Good decisions, bad decisions, decisions that were well-intended, decisions that were just plain dumb. God is bigger than all of them, and His love is always in favor of what's best for us.

Unlike my current geographic location possibilities, which feel endless, I have two choices of where to live right now:

Home A: An environment where I am scared to death of making the wrong choice and being on the receiving end of impending doom.

Home B: An environment where I commit to following through on my convictions without hemming and hawing over whether or not it's the right decision, confident that God is a God who loves me, works things together for my good, and is sovereign over ALL decisions, even the ones I'm unsure about.

I'm going to move my toolbox from Home A to Home B and start hammering stuff out over there. Isn't that a much more beautiful home? Isn't it a better environment for the Holy Spirit to move and work in?

At the very least, it's better for my watery eyes. They sure could use a break.