Where I Started
Where I Am
“What a moment you brought me to. Such a freedom Lord, I have found in you. You’re the healer, who makes all things new. Yeah, Yeah, Yeaaaah. I’m not going back, I’m moving ahead. I’m here to declare to you, my past is over. In you, all things are made new. Surrender my life to Christ. I’m moving forward.”
“Moving Forward” Israel Houghton
“Moving Forward” has been my theme song throughout this whole process. It represented so much of what I was doing from being able to let go of that young man to being able to walk into this new season without going backwards. But “Moving Forward” started out being easier sung then done…
Last time we left off in this series with my turning my application in mere hours before it was due and all there was left to do was trust God and wait. Initially I was sitting pretty with the knowledge that there was nothing else left to do but wait. I couldn’t change anything, I just had to watch and wait. But as the days turned into weeks, I started to realize the serious implication of what I had just done. It didn’t hit me hard until one evening when I checked my mailbox and saw an envelope from the school. I pulled the envelope out of the mailbox as if I were wearing an ovenmitt and the envelope was a simmering tray of lasagna. It was the slow and steady pull that you do to make sure no sauces drop on the oven floor or, worse yet, you. I looked at the envelope and I saw my life flash before my eyes. I realized that right there in my hands, I held my future. My acceptance or denial would, either way, change the trajectory of my life and I wondered if I was ready for either response. Despite being a little afraid of the outcome, I ripped open the envelope only to find a letter thanking me for applying to the school and telling me that I can check my admission status at any time on the school’s web system. Whew! False alarm. But still, I knew that it was only a matter of time before I had to make some pretty major decisions.
Quite some time went by before I would hear anything else from the school. A part of me was hoping that I wouldn’t get in just so I wouldn’t have to uproot my life and so that I could continue doing business as usual. But life is never that simple. One day as I was tending to business as usual I saw that a voicemail had arrived on my cell phone. It was in the middle of the day, from a strange number and so I wondered to myself, “Who could this be?” I called my voicemail and listened to the message from a voice and a person unfamiliar to me but an institution that was. It was a representative from the school calling to congratulate me on being accepted into the program. I replayed the message about three times and then just sat there in a state of shock. Me. Going to seminary. Really?
Upon being accepted, I told very few people because I just couldn’t believe it nor did I know what I was going to do with that acceptance. Would I decline the acceptance, defer the acceptance or accept the acceptance? It felt like the choice was mine and not mine all at the same time because, after all, this is seminary we are talking about and while there are people who make the decision to go, there are others who are lead to go. Slowly but surely I was discovering that I was in the latter portion of people, not the former.
I went on the warpath with my prayers, not really accepting God’s silence as an answer and not settling for just a glimmer at the end of the tunnel but wanting a gigantic spotlight to show me where to go. I figured that if God, knitting me in my mother’s womb, knowing me before I was born, knows every little thing about me, surely He knows that He created me to be a creature of habit, security and certainty. I wasn’t absolutely comfortable with dropping everything and going back to school without being absolutely sure that this was not just a good choice, but a God choice. I was in extreme waffle territory. Not the breakfast food but the state of mind where one day you could ask me if I was going and I’d say yes, but maybe an hour later I might say no, and an hour after that I’d say maybe.
My first waffling had to do with that young man. Now, before anyone thinks this entire story revolves around him, it doesn’t. It only seems that way because I didn’t write this in a strictly chronological fashion. Had I written it that way, he might have been two strong paragraphs in one post as opposed to a paragraph per post. Nevertheless, he was my first waffle. It was in the midst of our better days when there still seemed to be hoped and I decided that maybe, just maybe, I could go to school where I was accepted and then a year later I could transfer to a school near him. I’m sure this is also where the straw broke the camel’s back because I know when we make plans God is known to laugh and I’m sure God was having a Def Comedy Jam in heaven watching me change the plans He had for me for a man He didn’t have for me. So, as I have said in every post of this series, the young man went away. But now, finally, we can see the denouement. God removed him for manifold reasons, some known to me, others not, but what I do know for sure is the moment when he was removed and I got over it, I was able to stop waffling about going back to school. With him out of the picture, I knew that school was in one place and one place alone. There were no transfers because God didn’t admit me into any other school but the school I got accepted to. Who am I to change His awesome plan?
With that out of the way, I figured it would be smooth sailing, but it wasn’t. Now it was time for the rubber to meet the road in terms of the logistics of getting to school. Particularly, how in the world was I going to afford it? I found out that the school was a private institution–something I didn’t know before I applied. (Yeah, I really just took a blind leap of faith.) I didn’t care whether the school was private or public when I applied, all I knew is this is where I felt lead to go. And so I had to become a squeaky wheel, haggling with the school financial aid folks, filling out the FAFSA forms, speaking to a bishop–actually his assistant–just doing anything to see if I could squeeze a few dollars out of the institution, out of the government or out of my denomination. The result of all of that was my getting a little grant and a loan so large that I harbored the great hope–and still do–that the rapture will come before I have to start paying the loans back. Despite all of this, I knew that I could never let money or my lack of it be a deterrent from starting school in the fall. Money never stopped anyone who felt sure in the natural that they should go to medical school or law school, so why should it stop me in the spiritual when I have received the call to go to seminary. Two waffles down, X to go. With the young man out of the way and the financial situation sort of rectified, one would think that I shouldn’t have had any problem with just boldly declaring that I was going. That was still far from the case. Now I had to deal with myself.
I’ve lived in New York for nearly eight years and in that eight years I never imagined that I would leave the city–despite the fact that I would say at least once a year that I am giving New York 7-10 years. But I just didn’t feel ready to leave yet. I had recently moved into a beautiful apartment with great views of Brooklyn. I felt like I was finally walking confidently in who I was in this city with great friends and the fact that any place I went I was bound to know at least 5-10 other people in the room. I felt like Norm from “Cheers”. Besides that, I had a really great church home, was involved in ministry there, had a great church family and just a lot of creature comforts I wasn’t sure I wanted to give up. Not to mention the job that ensured I could not only do something that I loved, but it ensured I kept the beautiful apartment roof over my head, kept tithing and offering, and kept the creature comforts I enjoyed so much. But knowing all of this, and even looking at the list right now, those are all things of the world, things that make life comfortable and I knew I wasn’t called to be comfortable. As I continued to discern my way through, God kept on revealing things to me about myself that answered the question of why now was the time for me to move and pursue His vocation on a more complete and full-time basis.
God revealed to me that He had given me most of what I wanted over my eight years in NY and the time preceding that in college. I wanted to go to school to study journalism, He let me do that. I wanted to move to NY to pursue a career in magazines for fashion and entertainment, He let me do that. I wanted to spend my money on whatever I wanted, He let me do that. I spent over a decade doing what I wanted to do, when I wanted to do it, how I wanted to do it, why I wanted to do it, where I wanted to do it and with who I wanted to do it with and He let me do it. But how much longer could I survive on doing what I wanted to do? I wanted more out of life and I wasn’t going to find it unless I decided to put my trust in God and see where He wants to lead me. If I knew nothing else at this point in my life, I knew it was time for me to trust someone else besides myself and that person is God.
More of my “Nos” became “Yes” and I found myself opening more to the journey that God wanted to send me on. I started to read books that would help me to get up the courage and go. John Ortberg’s “If You Want to Walk On Water, You Have to Get Out of the Boat” was one of the most pivotal books that I read and it helped me stop looking at myself and start looking at Jesus and trust Him much more with my life. I was strengthened and encouraged by reading,
“God generally helps a person’s faith by asking them to take the first step.”
“There is a danger in getting out of the boat. But there is a danger in staying in it as well. If you live in the boat–whatever your boat happens to be–you will eventually die of boredom and stagnation.”
“You will never know God is trustworthy if you don’t risk obeying him.”
I knew that this was about giving my life over to God to make something more of it. It was about doing what God wanted me to do knowing that He had allowed me to do so much of I wanted to do. And so the process of moving forward continued. But every time I made a declaration that moving forward was what I knew I was supposed to do, something or someone would try to convince me otherwise. This time it was a close friend, who after I told him that I was going, shared with me that he didn’t think it was the right move. He had a gut feeling that it wasn’t the right move for me to make and even if I did make it, I wouldn’t be there for long. His words hit me hard and I began to wonder if there wasn’t a bit of truth in them because earlier that day, a spiritual mentor of sorts, alluded to the fact that I might go but not be there for long. And so, the morning after those conversations, I took it to God in prayer and seriously petitioned for a sign that moving forward was His will.
After I arose from my prayer, I turned on a sermon CD I received the night before and I let it play while I was getting ready for work. The pastor was talking about Jesus and the young ruler who asked Him what must he do to be saved. Jesus told him he must sell everything and follow Him, to which the young ruler became despondent because He barely wanted to leave all of his creature comforts. And the pastor said,
“He could not leave what was secure, comfortable and nailed down and just walk away with Jesus. With human beings it is impossible to hand God everything. I know it sounds strange, but if you give yourself away to cause of God, if you give everything to God, you don’t have to chase happiness anymore, you are going to wake up one morning and be happy.”
At that moment I felt that God was speaking to me. That was the core of why I was uncertain about the move because I felt I had so much comfort and security here. It was time for me to let all of that go though. But that was just the first of His signs to me.
After that I continued to listen to the sermon on my iPod on my way into work and as I stood there listening on the 6 train, right as it pulled up into the station by my job, I randomly reached into the back pocket of my jeans and pulled out a piece of paper. That piece of paper was a stub from my last flight to Atlanta. Besides evidence that I was wearing soiled jeans, I felt God speaking again about my destination. But He wasn’t done. Finally I got to my desk at work and I logged onto Facebook to see a new message waiting for me and that message was from a person I had met at the International Christian Retail Show years ago. We kept in touch on a sporadic basis so that he could keep me posted on his work and also so that we could see if there was opportunity for him to fit in on the site I worked for. But in his e-mail, he said some poignant things including asking about when I’ll start working on my book–I’ve never mentioned a book to him–but most importantly the last ‘graph in his e-mail said that if I was ever in his area, there are some people he’d love to introduce me to if it helps or just to say hi. At this I paused and my mouth dropped open because his area is the area where the school is, which I’ve never talked to him about. I knew God had to be speaking and speaking loudly and I heeded Him at this. But, just as made my declaration the enemy was ready to challenge me yet again. So though God moved the man, the financial barrier, and showed me signs that He wanted me in school, I still had one more barrier to entry, my job.
I strongly believe my job at Beliefnet is what set the foundation for my future, although while I was there I didn’t know. A million times I asked God, “Why am I here and when will I leave?” But He always had me to stay just a little bit longer. But as seminary came into view, the acceptance letter arrived, and other doors started to open, I wondered how and when to break the news and even if I should break the news because I had a very good thing going there. Maybe I should just stay. I was trusted with so much, beyond anything I could ever imagine, and I worked with some of the most talented, intelligent, funny, caring people you could ever find in an office. A part of me didn’t want to leave because it was a secure place. My job was stable, I had just gotten a promotion after waiting many years, everything seemed good, until it wasn’t.
This the part where I can’t say too much because it’s sort of legally prohibited, but I think that is just fine because I am sure you, dear reader, are in need of respite from all the starting and stopping, waffles, roadblocks and every other thing which has clogged my moving forward unrestrained. So to make a long story short–too late–my stable job became not so stable and just a few short weeks ago I was laid off. But don’t worry, this is a good thing because I finally feel that I know exactly what to do, thanks be to God. It was pure divine intervention. So with that, here is what this has all lead to…
I’m moving forward and that moving forward will find me in Atlanta, Georgia at Emory University’s Candler School of Theology to start work on my Master in Divinity. Does that mean I’ll be a preacher? I don’t know. Will I be a professor? I don’t know. But what I do know is this is what God wants me to do at this point in my life.
They say, “Everything happens for a reason.” I say, “All things work for the good of those who love the Lord and are CALLED according to His purpose.” Having gone through everything I’ve gone through to get to this very moment, I know that it all worked out for my good. I don’t regret a moment of my life this year. I don’t regret having met that young man and going through the things I did with him because it made me stronger and more open to the possibility of love. I don’t regret all the doubts I had because without the doubt I wouldn’t have received the evidence that this is God’s will. I don’t regret not even really having the money to go because in having empty hands I am now truly open to God’s provision. I also don’t regret being laid off because it is that moment that has allowed me to really get to the point of my entire life and that is that I have to trust God. And with that, I’m moving forward.
As I said I would in my last post, I am now sharing the personal essay I wrote for my application to seminary. I’ve always carefully guarded this information feeling that first it made me strange or weird, then I guarded it because I didn’t trust many with knowing about this very personal part of my life and now, finally, I recognize this as a story not for me to keep to myself but to share with as many who would read this so that some might be blessed.
Like many traditional families, my family has a gigantic keepsake Bible. I remember seeing it throughout my childhood and watching it go from completely composed, to falling to pieces. I used to look at that Bible every so often, not necessarily to read it, but just to flip through its large-print pages. But one day I felt compelled to start from the beginning of the Bible where the family milestones were documented. I read the recording of the family marriages, which were many, and then I turned to the page listing the family births, which were much fewer. There on the page of family births, in a list of five names, mine showed up third and read as follows, “Nicole was born to adopted by _________ and ________ born on December 26, 1980.” I nearly dropped the massive Bible when I read those words. “Adopted?” I said to myself. I immediately ran into the kitchen and interrupted my mom, who at the moment was preparing breakfast. With tears in my eyes, I said, “Why didn’t you tell me I was adopted? How could you just let me read it in a book without telling me yourself?” With tears in her eyes, she said, “I was going to tell you, but I wanted to wait for the right time.”
Right then and there became the right time for her to tell me:
My biological mother, a teenager about the age of 16, who conceived me in a chance meeting with a military man at a party, gave me up for adoption on the day of my birth. I would go from this young woman’s arms to the foster care system for about six months while various couples in search of the perfect little girl would come in and out of my life. My adoptive parents were initially offered twin girls, but it fell through when it was discovered that the parents of those children lied on their application. My parents discovered me in my seventh month of foster care. My mother told me that when her and my father came to see me, I ran directly to them as if I already knew that they were to be my parents, and that was enough for them. What they saw was a child, who despite her circumstances, had love in her heart and desired to be loved. My parents adopted me when I was eight months old and went forward with giving me the life that I could only be given by the grace of God.
I didn’t think that finding out about my adoption would change my life—since I didn’t know about it in the first place—but it did. Finding out that I was adopted brought with it many questions. “Why didn’t my biological mother want me? How could she give a child up and never come back for it? Should I look for her?” It was like a little fox in my life, creeping up at the most inopportune times. It wreaked havoc on my self-confidence, my friendships, and on any relationships that were in formation because I was always afraid of people letting me go and never turning back. It was both the gift and the curse. The gift being that it allowed me the freedom to not feel pressured to find my biological mother because she gave me up so early in life, and the curse being that I existed between a tension of wondering about her and the life I might have had had she never decided to give me up. Opening that Bible on that ordinary day affected my identity, but soon enough everything would change.
After opening that Bible to find out about my identity in the world, I began to open it up to find out about my identity in God. It was a process that took about 10 years and within those years I would go from being active in a large Southern Baptist church in high school, move on to be a sporadic attendee of various Baptist churches in college and then I would take a hiatus from church altogether and decide that I wasn’t ready for a committed relationship with God. But, like Jonah, I couldn’t escape God’s call on my life for long before He called me a second time.
I received his second call when I moved to New York to pursue a career in journalism. While I thought I was on the fast track to becoming a fashion and entertainment journalist, God was bidding me to draw near to Him. He gave me a thirst and a hunger for His righteousness instead of for worldly success and critical acclaim. He changed my appetite for the things of the world and began to awaken within me a real desire to know Him. I knew then that I had to search for a church home and it didn’t take long before I found that home in the Greater Allen Cathedral of New York, an African Methodist Episcopal church. (It helps to mention that I had come full circle when I arrived at the Greater Allen Cathedral because when I was a child, I attended The Allen Christian School, the school owned by the church.) It was there that my spiritual formation really began and God revealed to me the information about my spiritual adoption.
I remember it like it was yesterday. It was a Friday night young adult Bible study and I was sitting on the right side of the chapel being attentive to the minister’s teaching about spiritual adoption. In the midst of his lesson he told us to turn to Ephesians 1:4-6 and he read the scripture aloud, “Even before He made the world, God loved us and chose us in Christ to be holy and without fault in his eyes. God decided in advance to adopt us into his own family by bringing us to himself through Jesus Christ. This is what he wanted to do, and it gave him great pleasure.” As he read this, tears welled up in my eyes at the thought that not only had God planned my earthly adoption, He adopted me into the family of Christ and secured my place with Him for eternity before I was even knitted in my biological mother’s womb. It was preordained for me to be given up and adopted so that I could eventually understand the significance of my spiritual adoption and the fact that I was always kept. I had already considered myself a “born-again Christian” from my Southern Baptist days, but that night, I was given a true spiritual rebirth. I came to see my physical adoption as a small part of a bigger portrait that God was painting of me. I began to live, not just exist, in this new identity of spiritual adoption and God put me on a fast track to spiritual maturity through my involvement in various ministries in my church and most recently my work.
My fast track to becoming a fashion and entertainment journalist was derailed shortly after that Bible study. It was confirmed for me that it would be as I awaited the start of the 2005 Watchnight service at my church. I was given a revelation that I would be in the number of people who were to be laid-off at Time Inc. early in 2006. Despite this news, a certain peace fell over me. Peace was with me when my boss gave me the fated news in late January 2006. Ironically, the news of my job consolidation was delivered to me exactly how the news of my physical adoption was delivered, on a fluke. I received a call from human resources about another job within the company and I immediately rushed to my boss—without tears in my eyes—to ask her why I was being offered another job. She told me my job was being consolidated but I was given four months to look for a job before my layoff would go into effect. During that time, I looked and interviewed for several jobs in fashion and entertainment journalism, but they all fell through. In the fourth month, a job came looking for me. It was a multi-faith website started by a former Newsweek editor who wanted people to “find and walk a spiritual path that will bring comfort, hope, clarity, strength, and happiness to their lives.” I had never heard of the site before, nor was I looking to become a religion reporter, but somehow I was compelled to send a cover letter and resume. In a few weeks time, I was contacted for an interview. Three interviews later, I was offered the job and became an editor at the world’s largest multi-faith and spirituality website. To many, it was a questionable career move that would throw my career off track. To others it was a strange move for a Christian to make because the site wasn’t solely Christian. But, to me, I had to believe that God positioned me there for a reason.
In the midst of many faiths and spiritual traditions, Beliefnet became the test of my spiritual maturity. I learned how to engage in interfaith dialogue in personal and professional relationships; I cultivated a love for classic theologians such as John Calvin, Dietrich Bonhoeffer and Martin Luther; it stimulated my desire to go deeper into Biblical texts not only for my sake but for the sake of those whom I worked with so that I may be an effective minister; and it nurtured and sharpened the only gift that I am certain God has granted me—for the moment—writing. It is my experience at Beliefnet that has helped me apply the knowledge of my identity in God and has even challenged my knowledge of Him. And, for the purposes of my current pursuit of a theological education, it is Beliefnet that has stirred within me the desire to become a student of the word of God and theology so that I may become a credible leader who will effectively bridge the gap between the world and the kingdom of God.
It is my belief that I have lead a full life thus far, but there is yet more in me that I believe I must now turn over to God so that He may be glorified. He spared my life when I could have been another casualty of the foster care system or even aborted. It was Him who ensured that the strikethrough of my arrival in the family Bible was not a deletion of my importance, but a catalyst to understanding my spiritual placement in the book of life.
If I was pre-destined, then the Creator already mapped out my family, my talent, and my life’s journey. What could have been a soul-crushing experience resulted in a deeper appreciation of God’s love for me and in turn my love for Him. I do not know what my “natural” life would have provided. Would I have even known the Lord the way I do now? Who’s to say? But I can say that I live as a whole woman, living on the benefits of my adoption—both of them, and preparing to be a vessel for other souls looking for the love that can only come from the Father above.
In the previous post, you’ll recall that I mentioned that I was preparing for something at the same time as the young man was preparing for his pivotal moment. But, as I do more often than not, I was more consumed with helping others than helping myself. It was easier for me to encourage and pray for someone else than it was to encourage and pray for myself. But now that he was gone I was left to my own devices and God finally had me where He wanted me.
You see, after nearly eight years of wavering on going back to school, God finally gave me the green light to go back, but it wasn’t for what I thought it would be. For as long as I have been a journalist in New York I have always harbored thoughts of going to Columbia University to get my Master’s in journalism. A Master’s degree from Columbia was a stamp of approval in the industry, it opens doors that no mortal can open. So, to me, that was always going to be the school I applied to on the day I decided to apply to graduate school. But for many years I kept letting application deadlines pass. Then, because I started to work with religion and spirituality as my full-time job at Beliefnet.com, I saw that Columbia had a dual master’s degree in journalism and religious studies and that became something to aspire to. I spent a while researching the program and its requirements and then, just like the journalism program, I let the application deadline pass. But this time around there was something different about my consideration of this program. I felt that I was closer to my next step in life. I was thrilled to life and scared to death but I’d be remiss if I didn’t admit that I also thought the program would be too difficult and challenging for me.
I let some more time pass before I started to think about school again and this time, a friend, who is a peer in the industry, asked if I ever considered seminary. Mind you this friend doesn’t know much about me, personally, but somehow he discerned enough to suggest this (that, to me, is God). When he asked, I didn’t scoff, I actually walked away from the conversation and began to pray about it.
No sooner than my knees lifted off the floor and I began to move, the work of looking into different seminaries took place. God was opening doors and telling me who I should talk to regarding this next step in my life and soon enough I had a list of schools to consider. Princeton, Yale, Union, Duke, Drew, and Emory. Those were the six schools that I was considering. I knew someone at all of those schools except for one and so that one is where I started my research. I first visited the school’s website where immediately the images of the campus and the chapel blew me away. I could feel the breeze through the trees through my computer. I could feel the energy and spirit of the campus coursing through my veins. As I read about the academic program, the concentrations and the contextual education, I felt drawn to the program. Feeling this strongly about what I read on the website, I wasted no time in booking a flight to check out the school during the open house weekend and thanks be to God I could afford to book the ticket and get the rental car because of a gift card I had received.
Upon arriving on the campus on a chilly evening, I was greeted by various faculty, administration, current and prospective students. It was a nice and warm place and though I had taken this journey alone, I didn’t feel alone because every other person in the room was searching for something bigger than themselves. Even in the moments where I was tempted to be sad because everyone had brought a plus one–be it their parents, their significant others or their best friends, I knew that I wasn’t really alone. I spent the weekend immersing myself in the school, absorbing everything from the brief lectures on Systematic Theology and Christian Ethics, to the stories current students told about how they came to the school, to fellowshipping with the prospective students. From that short weekend with that group of people, I felt a true sense of community and a connection that I knew I wanted. This was the fall of 2009, October to be exact, and the application deadline was January 15th. That meant that I had a little over two months to gather the courage to put my faith in motion and apply.
Over the next two months, I prayed, I sought counsel from trusted friends and family and I spoke with a leader in my dance ministry. The latter conversation took place in late November 2009 during a rehearsal for our church’s annual Christmas Candlelight service. I had so much on my mind that I had decided not to minister for Candlelight but instead take the time to be still. With tears in my eyes, I shared this with one of the leaders of the ministry and told her how seminary came into view. I was crying because having the words come out of my mouth made me feel like I had no other choice but to move forward. I knew my words would be manifest sooner rather than later. That evening she told me that I should move in the direction I felt God was calling me to and in moving in that direction, He will reveal His plan. She even told me that she would be a reference should I decide to move forward with the application process. And so, with that, I walked away from the rehearsal with moving forward in mind.
On December 1 I started my application to the school. I gathered my references, started to think about my personal essay and did the necessary reading for the academic essay. During my annual Christmas vacation, God blessed me with the theme of my personal essay–of which I will share in the next installment of the series. Though I started writing the essay in Orlando I couldn’t finish it. No matter how hard I tried, how many words I wrote, how much time I spent, the words just weren’t flowing. But who came to help me finish the essay?
Remember the young man that arrived on January 1 and was taken away two months later? Well, he is partially the reason why I was able to get the essay done. Him and Jonah (yeah, that Jonah). When he e-mailed me on January 1st, the subject line of the e-mail was “Decision” and in it he asked me if I had decided to apply to seminary–he knew I was considering it because of an e-mail correspondence we had in November. I responded and told him that I had decided to move forward with applying and I was working on my personal essay, to which he responded by sharing with me the sermon from his church’s New Year’s Eve service on Jonah.
It was in sheer amazement that I read his notes from the sermon because I’ve heard Jonah sermons multiple times in my life. They’ve always coincided with what I was going through. Like the time I was running from something and I heard a Bible study about when Jonah was running away from his God-given assignment in Nineveh to rock the boat to Tarshish. The young man shared with me what happened when Jonah decided to do what God had told him to do–go to Nineveh– which resulted in his trip to Nineveh being shorter than usual.
“Now Nineveh was an exceedingly large city, a three days’ walk across. Jonah began to go into the city, going a days’ walk.”
A journey that was supposed to take three days only took one. I had read this book many times but I never paid attention to the fact that when Jonah decided to do what God told Him to do, his journey was much shorter for it. Before the young man shared this with me, I had decided that it was going to take one week to write my personal essay. But once I read his notes, did my own personal study on Jonah by going back to the previous sermons I’d heard, read the book of Jonah and read a commentary, I felt a determination unlike I had ever before. Thereafter, my best friend and I went to a local coffeehouse and I set forth to work on my personal essay. Three hours later, which was 21 hours and 6 days earlier than I had anticipated, I had finished my personal essay. I turned my laptop over to my best friend and I let her read it. She suggested some changes and edits and then we left the coffeehouse, me with a complete essay and the lesson learned that when you set forth to do what God told you to do, His timing is perfect and sometimes expedited. Later on that evening I thanked the young man for sharing that on-time word and I told him that I had completed the essay. (As I write this, I look back at that moment and think that maybe his purpose was for that moment and that moment alone and everything else was secondary. Only God knows…)
I eventually completed the application mere hours before the deadline, submitted it and all I had left to do was trust that God knew what He was doing and wait on Him. But little did I know, the application was hardly the hardest part…
This is a 2-3 part series on my testimony for the first half of 2010. Much has gone on with me this year and that’s why my writing has been sparse. I’ve had to let time pass, a healing take place before I could be in the position to share this with anyone. I hope that you will take this journey with me in reading these post through to the end for there is light at the end of this tunnel that I hope you will find just as exciting as I do. I thank you in advance for endeavoring to read and share this moment with me.
I’ll trust you. Lord it’s not easy. Sometimes the pain in my life, makes you seem far away. But I’ll trust you. I need to know you’re here. Through the tears and the rain, through the heartache and pain, I’ll trust you. “I’ll Trust You” James P. Fortune & Fiya
When I first heard James Fortune & Fiya’s “I’ll Trust You” I was driving a rental car in Atlanta a few years ago. I was eavesdropping on the song instead of listening to a conversation between friends and as I listened to the words, this song felt important to me, but I didn’t know why. It is a song about trust, the kind of trust you put in God when you have nothing left. At that moment I had everything. I had a job, I was in my right mind, I was surrounded by good friends and family, my life, overall, seemed to be on the right track. But I heard this song everyday of my weekend in Atlanta and each day my ears perked up. As soon as I got home to New York, I downloaded it from iTunes and added it to my rotation. Little did I know how this song would impact my life years later…
I remember it like it was yesterday. I was talking with a close friend on New Year’s Eve about resolutions and about how I didn’t have any. The only thing I had resolved was to just do whatever God wanted me to do. I wrote in my journal:
“I don’t know what I hope for in 2010. Simply put, I don’t hope for anything but a change. A change in my life, my mind, my heart. A change in faith, to live a life full of faith. All I want to achieve is God having His way in my life. I admit that I have been living under the “ye of little faith” regime and admittedly I’m tired of professing a life full of God yet so void of Him. In 2010 I know I have to take some chances for God’s sake and just step out on faith. What is before me in 2010 requires that I take a step in the right direction. “You know where our feet go. You know where we are heading. You know our destiny.”
That was me the night before the first day of 2010. I didn’t have any other resolution I thought was as powerful as simply just resolving to put more faith and trust in God. Soon enough, just as I proclaimed those words to my friend, my journal and in my prayers, I was faced with living it out.
The beginning of 2010 found me in the position of spiritually giving myself to a man who came into my life on the first day of the year. He was an acquaintance from college who I had only had a few conversations with. I knew some of the things he was going through and he knew what I was preparing to go through and considering that, I became his intercessor and encourager as he prepared for a pivotal moment in his life. I dived in head first into helping him along on this process. In kind, he also prayed me through my process. Initially it was just praying, but with praying comes a heightened sense of intimacy which created between us a heightened emotional state that might have just been accelerated by the extremely intimate act of prayer we were engaging in daily for nearly two months. Before long, the question of feelings came into play and we were no longer on one accord. Though there was much mutual exchange of sweet sentiments and full disclosure between us, including the fact that I knew he wasn’t ready for a relationship because he wanted to straighten out some things in his life, I held on. I held on because it seemed like I should, it seemed like he wanted me to. He even told me that he knew I deserved the best so he wanted to make sure he had things in order so that he could provide that. I wasn’t delusional about where things were going, but surely I was blindsided when, all of a sudden, he started to withdraw.
Not long after the flower petals and ink had dried on the hand-written letter he sent me extolling my virtues, not long after the morning texts and daily calls halted, I went from being an “integral part of his life”, “an amazing woman”, “a God send” to not being important enough to communicate with. I became non-integral after his pivotal moment passed and I couldn’t have felt more devastated and used for it. I was back to where I started, alone. But, being alone, I had time to think and pray. Initially I took a fleshly approach and nearly begged him to re-consider me but then I realized that I could not change what GOD was doing–and that I don’t need to beg any man to be with me. I did need him to only be so thankful for the help that I gave him like the nine lepers who didn’t come back to thank Jesus after He healed them, because I needed to understand that a life in ministry to someone means that you will not always get the gratitude you deserve. I needed to see that while this man had some of the qualities I want in a mate, we were on two different levels of spiritual maturity. But most importantly, I needed this man to turn me down so that I could be turned over to a greater cause.
And so, as much as I suffered a broken heart and spirit, and as much as I thought that this was a man that I could see myself with, I had to TRUST that God knew what is best for me. I had to learn to take the power out of that man’s hands to break me and put it back in God’s hands to make me stronger. I had to make a step in what I thought was the right direction which meant stepping away from something I wanted in order to get what I really needed. God used that entire experience to not only strengthen me, but to propel me into my pivotal moment, the moment that would change my life forever…
To be continued tomorrow…