Jan 25 2009
Obeying in the Hard Things
Has God ever asked you to do something you didn’t understand–something that didn’t make sense–that you didn’t want to do?
It happened to me ten years ago next month. I was born, raised, married and had my children in Nebraska, then God said, “Pack up your things. I’m moving you to Missouri.” Well, Missouri and Nebraska are neighboring states, but the cultural differences make they seem worlds apart.
He opened doors in Missouri, clearly closed doors in Nebraska, and put it all together in obvious and even crazy ways, just to let me know this was His plan. I wanted to get out of it in the worst way, because I had hoped to live and die in my home state, surrounded by friends, family, church and neighbors I dearly loved. Because I plant my roots very deep He needed a bulldozer to dig them out.
Oh, how I dreaded the move. I kept asking, “Why, Lord?” If it wasn’t home, it wasn’t home. That’s all there was to it.
It broke my heart to say goodbye to those I loved, my children and especially my grandchildren, who would now essentially grow up without me. My husband was excited about the move and went on ahead while I stayed behind to sell the house and make final arrangements.
For months I wept and argued asking God if He knew what He was doing, because it certainly didn’t feel like it to me. Once we were settled in the new place, I struggled against terrible homesickness, still wondering why.
I often asked the Lord during those first two years what I was supposed to do in this new place, but He was stonily silent on the subject. Two years to the day, however, He finally answered, telling me to sit down, that He was going to teach me how to write.
I did a double-take. “What? I must’ve heard wrong. I thought You said You were going to teach me how to write.” “I did.” “But I’m nearly fifty years old. Don’t you think it’s a little late?”
That’s exactly how I reacted and yet, I had seen Him do such amazing things that I had to give it a shot. The truth is, I came to Missouri suffering from clinical depression that had begun five years earlier, and was on medication to control it.
But now I was getting excited, with something new to look forward to. And God did amazing things. Our wooded acreage, nestled on a two-acre lake in the heart of the Ozarks, is the perfect place to write, offering both solitude and inspiration. And the writing process was so therapeutic that the depression lifted, so medication was no longer necessary. I had so many stories pouring from my imagination that it took over twenty-five books to write them all.
But more than anything I saw God in a way I’d never seen Him before. He makes excellent plans for us if we’re willing to follow His lead, trusting that He knows the way we take and what will fill us up.
Missouri is the perfect place to write, and I am, as they say, happy as a clam. And I can say with assurance: how blessed is the man or woman who trusts in the Lord, for the end of the story will be a good one.
Because of His great love,
Nancy
