Moving Blues

A few weeks ago, the thought of owning a home didn’t make any sense in my feeble human mind. I mean, it’s like getting married and having kids… except without any of the perks. Owning a house also grants you the ridiculous ability to store, locate, and hoard an incomprehensible amount of junk.

But then last week happened and I was privileged to move from one apartment to the other (P.S. if you don’t know by now… if I ever use the word privileged I’m being sarcastic). Somehow this glorious event took me an entire week and it was here that I came to the irrevocable conclusion that moving sucks… a lot. Packing and unpacking, standing out in the blistering heat holding a box of glorified trash, and don’t even get me started on steps (who invented them and why!?!?). Yes, I hate moving.

Ironically, this serves as an easy spiritual metaphor for my life… kind of darned if you do, darned if you don’t. It’s been pretty evident that God is moving me from “teacher” to “missions (fingers crossed)”. And while I’m excited about the destination, I’m not really feeling the transition. As I told a friend earlier this week, I’ve been in full Israelite mode. In Exodus the Children of God begged Him to send them back into slavery because they were hating the journey even though they longed for the destination. They had been delivered, their prayers had been answered… and all they could do was wish that they had never prayed in the first place.

Perhaps, in some overly complicated and philosophical way that is far beyond my comprehension, the journey is necessary to prepare you for the destination. In my own life that means the being “financially constrained” (the politically correct way of saying that my life is being limited by a budget), flustered as to how I’ll balance school and work, and jobless is what I need right now. Ugh… that is definitely a tough pill to swallow but then again this life is a life of transitions. If our eternal destination is someplace else… won’t we always be in a constant state of flux?

At any rate, the juice will be worth the squeeze and, as I cram to prepare for Open Mic nights, prepare lessons for Adult Bible Fellowship, and master Greek and Ancient Hebrew… there’s comfort in that truth. Call it growing pains, moving blues, or transitional lamentations (I made that last one up J)… I just know with certainty that as much as I hate transitions and waiting… they’re both essentials and somehow exalt the King’s Glory. And in the end, isn’t that enough to help us suck it up and keep on walking?