Approximately fifteen minutes ago I was crying in the girls’ bathroom as a shaky eighteen-year-old who was starting her first day of college.
It is now April of Year 4. I have just left a friend’s apartment where we discussed and prayed and dreamed about the next phase of life, hopefully living together and working full time and seeking the Lord for his wisdom and clarity.
I am waiting to hear back from nonprofit administrative positions. I have been published. I am helping my boyfriend apply for seminary scholarships. I am hearing friends lease in the northern part of town and receive job offers and get engaged on the beach and I am being asked to speak at our last senior gathering and and and
Lord, so much has happened.
I am reading Exodus. A lot happened for those people of God in that time, too, albeit a lot more grander of a scale than my small life in the City. He split the sea for them, was for them. He hardened the heart of Pharaoh, he make the Nile turn to blood, he guided them by fire and smoke.
This is our God. This is the One who has grafted me in, the one who makes me brave and gives me the faith to trust what on earth I am supposed to do next.
Same for you, friend. After all, he is constant. He is for us–not against us, as his children and as those who are in Christ.
Much continues to happen, but the God who tears waters and chariots apart is the same God of the now in this interesting, chaotic season of waiting and happening, happening and waiting. He continues to draw us all closer in the transitions and is faithful, unchanging (Heb 13:8).
What he did for the Israelites, he does for us today:
“You will lead the people
You have redeemed
with Your faithful love;
You will guide them to Your holy dwelling
with Your strength.”
May we all have the eyes to see and the strength to walk through the sea, relying on him for it all.