Not What I Imagined

When I think about my life, over the past year or the past forty years, a theme that arises over and over again is: It's not what I imagined.  As a youngster in sixth grade I wrote an essay (class assignment) about "Where I'll be in 20 years."  I wrote that I would be 32 years old, married with 2 children, living in Australia, working with my husband as missionary doctors.  The reality was very different.

At the age of 32 I was married with 2 children.  But I was neither a doctor nor a missionary nor living in Australia.  Instead, I was a stay-at-home mom, married to a maintenance man, living just outside Detroit, Michigan.  And a dozen years later I was a divorced mom of teenagers, trying to start over as breadwinner and sole parent.  Not what I imagined.

This story is not a story of woe, however.  Many things in my life have been better than I could have imagined.  I went to seminary and earned a masters of Divinity degree with all my tuition and books paid for by gifts and grants from individuals who believed in me... or believed in what God was doing in me.  My dream to be a pastor of a church by the time I was 50 was met with six months to spare.

As I think about my life, I find the theme of "not what I imagined" brings a wry smile to my face as well as hope to my soul.  The visions of my future never included the pain of divorce.  But neither did they include the joy of preaching every week as pastor.  They did not include teaching my two children for nine years at home.  They certainly never included teaching 91 children as a middle school teacher (which is my current occupation).

Perhaps this is the message that God wants me to hear:  God's plans for me are "not what I imagined."  They are what God imagined.  God knew the surprises -- good and bad -- that were waiting for me in life.  God knew the decisions I would make -- good and bad.  And God knew the plans that he has for me.

When the road of life takes a turn that "I never imagined" I can be sure that God is not surprised.  The Master Imaginer is steering this vehicle.  Detours are part of the plan.  The journey is the plan.  I don't have to fret that the route has changed.  I don't have to jam my right foot through the floor board trying to stop the ride.  My job is to relax; enjoy the scenery; let God guide.  Even if it takes me along a path that I never imagined.

Summertime Changes

This summer has brought changes to my life that threaten my identity.  For eight years I have been the sole (soul!) pastor of a rural church.  For six years I've been raising grandchildren.  I've had adult children sharing my house, my driveway, and my refrigerator. 

This summer all of those identities have changed.  My children have moved to their own separate places.  The grandchildren are living with their mother in a different town.  I am no longer pastor of that church.  Who am I now? 

Blessedly, God's Word answers the question of "Who am I?" without reference to roles, jobs, or human relationships.  God says, "I have called you by name; you are mine."

What a relief: my identity is centered in God!   God knows my name -- even the nicknames.  I belong to God.  I don't belong to my church, my children, or my grandchildren.  I belong to God.

Despite the summertime changes, my identity is sure.  On the days when I sit alone in a new apartment without toys or picture books or dirty glasses; when there is no deadline to choose a scripture, develop illustrations, or craft a sermon; when there is no list of people to visit or meetings to attend -- I still have an identity.  I belong to Someone who loves me, knows me, and wants me.

This month I plan to take advantage of the summertime changes and fall in love with God all over again.  After all, I belong to God!

The Living Word

I picked up a Bible from my shelf today that I've had for over forty years. It used to have a paperback cover. Now it is bound in red double knit fabric with cardboard inserts. The last few pages are barely held in by yellowing scotch tape. The spine came loose from the cover years ago. The first ten pages don't fasten to anything. The inside pages have markings of yellow highlighter, black underlining, red Flair pen, and pencil notes. This Living Bible, copyright 1971, is the story of my early faith. The verses I marked, the notes I made, as well as the pages without a mark, all tell of my struggles and growth as a Christian.

The freshness of this paraphrase in the 1970's was similar to the clear breeze that The Message brings for people today. I remember drinking in every page as if Jesus wrote it personally to me. This was NOT my mother's Bible! And my faith was uniquely and delightfully my own as well. -- Which was a good thing since I lived 700 miles from home and we didn't have unlimited long distance in those days!

I don't use that particular copy of the Bible anymore. I keep it as a memento of those early days. It is a good thing my faith does not depend on that book. It's too fragile to hold up to the demands of my life now. Preaching, teaching, praying, studying . . . those flimsy pages could never keep up. My faith is not in the printed word, but in the Living Word that the printed word reveals. The Word of God is living and active and sharper than a two-edged sword, separating our thoughts and motives (Hebrews 4:12). The Word of God was in the beginning with God (John 1:1). The Word of God became flesh and lived right here among us (John 1:14). That truth is too good to keep on a shelf!