Maybe not at Liquid?. . .

I sometimes think about what God may have for my future. And these past few days have really heightened the frequency of these thoughts. The question that often races through my mind is “What if. . .?” An email I received yesterday pushed “What if?” into a new direction.

What if God moves me away from Liquid?

What if His mission for me takes me away from the body of believers I’ve grown to love and cherish more than any group I’ve been associated with?

Honestly, the thought scares me. I ordinarily shove that thought into the back of my mind and continue doing what I’m doing. But lately the thought has been sitting in my head, unwilling to move or pass on.

Liquid is my home. My spiritual safehouse. The church welcomed me while I was in my most broken state. They were the instrument God used to heal my emotional and spiritual wounds and to get me started on a journey of faith I never dreamed possible.

I seriously do not want to leave. But maybe I have to. Maybe I’ve grown too comfortable here. Maybe my gifts are better used elsewhere. Maybe God is preparing a place for me to serve in a greater capacity.

Then again, maybe God is making me realize that it’s not about Liquid or the people there. It’s about Him. Maybe Liquid Church is my final destination, and this part of my journey is designed to show me that His Kingdom is moving quickly and powerfully in other venues as well.

But wherever He puts me, His love and presence are already there.

This month at Liquid Kids I get to teach the children about Hope. Hope is more than just a dream, a wish, or a desire. It’s a belief that at the heart of the darkest circumstance, God is working for our good. Or, for the sake of the kids’ collective minds, “Hope is believing that something good can come out of something bad.”

Separating from the people you love most is a heart-wrenching experience. But “goodbye” to one thing is always “hello” to something else.

So now I’m mentally and emotionally preparing myself to say goodbye. My desire is that I don’t have to, but if I do, I can have hope that “in all things God works for the good of those who love Him, who have been called according to His purpose” (emphasis added).

A prayer for my family in Aus. . .

Father, I have brothers and sisters in Melbourne and the surrounding Victoria area who are hurting, frightened, and suffering. I’m scared for them too, Father-God. But I know You have a plan, even though we can’t see it in action right now. Your love still wins out, but it’s hard to see it right now. I can’t imagine what Kate, Nick, Karen, Tiffany, Kellie, and the rest of my family out there must be dealing with, but You can, and will, show Yourself strong on their behalf. I love You, Father-God, and I trust You have something beautiful planned at the end of this tragedy.

We can’t see the front of the tapestry You’re weaving; all we can see is the tangled mess that’s on the back of it. But You’re the Master of the tapestry, Father-God, and I know it will still be a gorgeous one.

But in the midst of this, Father, we’re scared. Please comfort us and assuage our fears. Put Your arms of strength and healing around my family out there staring at this inferno in their backyard. Place a hedge of protection around them so that at some point soon, I too can place my arms around them again as well.

I’m requesting all of this through Jesus.