Well, the time has come for my prophetic blog title to come to fruition.
My husband turned in an application to rent an apartment on Saturday and we were accepted on Monday. We signed on Wednesday, unloaded our first things, and ate our first dinner in our new neighborhood. Today was my last Bible study and Saturday will be the big move. Saturday night will be the last night in my Mother’s house. Sunday morning will be our baby’s baptism and final church service. And Sunday afternoon will be our first night in our new apartment in the bustling burg of San Francisco.
After a year and a half, the time has come to move and I am terrified. In general I think I am a very fearful person, but I have learned to follow in that fear.
I’m leaving behind friends, family, and church for the great unknown. But the comfort in my mourning is manifold:
One: As we drove over the bridge to sign papers the weather was beautiful, sun glinting off high-rise windows and water alike. And a peace came over me. This was where we were supposed to be. I had no misgivings. My fear did not leave, but I was comforted in my lack of doubt.
Two: My friend had a dream once. I’ve been terrified before, see? I was on my way to Kenya for a month-long medical mission trip with my college. For some reason I couldn’t put my finger on I was overwhelmed by fear. My Pentecostal Hawaiian friend, big guy, always smelled like the tropics, came up to me one day and told me that he had dreamt a dream about me. I was walking along through his neighborhood on the island when this giant black tornado came up behind me and started following me. It got bigger and bigger and as it did I started to run. Right when the black tornado was about to suck me in I got to a door and stepped inside. The tornado disappeared. I was safe. I’m a person who feeds on images and this one was a gift for me. Fear was after me, but it would not conquer. My fear did not go away, but instead I was given thankfulness for a chance to be brave and build my little portfolio of trust.
Three: I was lost in Rome once. I had taken the last bus of the day to the edge of my map. I was staying with a friend of a friend and I had only been there one night. It wasn’t long before I was completely turned around, in a place I didn’t recognize, and off the map. I found myself wandering along the side of a highway and past very sketchy looking pubs in the middle of night. I was terrified, but I never felt quite alone. I remembered how God had been with me in fear before and I ended up meeting some very helpful citizens that drove me to the apartment.
This is only the tip of my altar. My little stack of remembering stones is high.
And yet I still ask.
“God, are you with me?”
“Even there My hand shall lead you, and My right hand shall hold you.” (Psalm 139)
“Do you want my fear?”
“As surely as God is faithful, our word to you has not been Yes and No… but in Him it is always Yes.” (2 Corin. 1)
“God, will you save me from debilitating fear?”
“My perfect love will drive out your fear.” (1 John 4)
“Behold, now is the favorable time; behold, now is the day of salvation.” (2 Corin. 6)
I don’t expect my fear to be snatched away completely. But I count my remembering stones and I recount. I will be bolstered by my own testimony that my fear will be reworked into something beautiful and enabling for His glory.
He has already given me excitement and courage as I say, “So long, Suburbia!”