I sometimes feel like God is a cat. A big, playful cat. I am the mouse. He has me by my tail.
I know that God doesn't work like that. My human mind can't fathom how all that He is doing right now is being worked toward His glory.
201 Massachusettes Street. After looking at about 15 houses, this was the only one I felt God speaking through. And it was nothing that special, really. Built in 1960, it had ugly pink walls and small closets. But it also had so many things going for it. A sunroom where I could set an easel and paint; it was lined with screens so that I could let the breeze in while I worked. One room upstairs that could be transformed into two rooms for two little Calvert children to run around in. (a wall seperated the one room into two rooms). A clawfoot bathtub. A HUGE yard, fenced, where a playful puppy could run, and dozens of children. So many possibilities.
I didn't bring those ideas on. In fact, when we first arrived, I wasn't impressed, and was already thinking about the charming house we'd looked at previously on Division Street. But something jarred me. Every single thing I spoke of in the previous paragraph were visions I began to have. This hadn't happened in any of the houses we'd looked at. And if it did, it was brought upon by me. But I felt as if this was different. Wesley and I would discuss the houses throughout our tours, but in this one, we were quiet. At the end of the tour, when the realtor left, he asked me what I thought. When I turned to look at him, and we locked eyes, he didn't need to hear my answer. The same thing was going on inside both of us. He was having visions as well, about our future children and the possibilities of the house.
This scared the crap out of me. Mostly because, we've been looking for a house for "right now". In two years, we expect to try and get our travelling ministry on its feet, and head out west. But this wasn't a house for right now, like the one on division. This was a house to settle in. To raise a family in. To foster children in. To paint the picture clearer, it is in walking distance from the park! We were both really scared of that. And scared of what God was doing inside of us. Because it seemed as if He was saying He wanted us to settle. But we trusted, and knew it was him. We just knew this house was the one God had for us.
We entered our information for the loan company to run a credit report. It cleared; everything seemed to be ok. We went out to look at the house again today, and noticed something that made my heart sink: "sale pending" was hung beneath the realty sign. I was devastated.
Why was a devastated? I hadn't even really liked the house as much as some others. I was devastated because I was "sure" that that was the house for us, based on what God had done in both of our hearts. We experienced the same visions; we had the same feelings. You know when you feel like you're in line with God's will, you just feel like such a better person because of it? Well, that's how I felt. I felt like I had actually heard God and He had jarred me to tell me "this is the one!" And now, I'm back at square one. I'm just another Christian who can never discern God's voice clearly. And that hurts.
My first reaction: anger, hurt, anxiety. How could God do this to me? To get my hopes up that we had actually found a place to live, and then snatch the rug from underneath us? I felt like one of the abandoned kittens in a cardboard box left on the side of the road during a rainstorm.
But then God began to really help me understand. No matter how much I sometimes DON'T like it, He IS God. And there's nothing I can do about it. He is going to do whatever He wills, and that is so frustrating to me! I think a lot of times, we create a God that isn't God at all. A God we can control, and use His name when we make big decisions (I'm not saying the house was an instance of this; I believe my visions were accurate, but not for that house).
That is a frustrating thought, isn't it? It's like that boyfriend that doesn't listen to you. You can scream and scream and scream and cry, but if he doesn't want to do what you want him to do, in the end, you're only making yourself more miserable.
I am letting go. I am trusting that God is God. What does it mean to trust that? It means that no matter what is going on in my life, that He loves me. What does it mean to love me? To look out for the BEST for me. For a toddler, to play in the street is not a danger; they haven't a care about the passing cars. But think what would happen to that toddler if their parent hadn't let them know how dangerous the road was? If the parent hadn't, so to speak, changed their path? They may think what's best for them is to play in the road, but the parent knows better. I guess what's so confusing is when you really do think you're hearing the parent's voice, but then that voice points you to a dead end. That's how I feel.
But I am letting go.
There is a reason for all this, and in hindsight, it will make sense. I will one day see those visions brought to life, however God wills them to be. I know it was Him. I know it was. But He's not through taking me on His ride. He won't be until the day I die. And as much as I hate being led, I have to view it as being led blindfolded. I have to rely and trust on the person who can see the things in front of me that I cannot. I have to trust Him.
