Will you trust the path?

Building altars along the way

A couple of weeks ago, I stood on the Oregon coast with the wind in my face, the sea rolling in and out—ebb and flow. Now, it is a reminder that all things come and go in time. Like the ocean, the life of the soul is expressed in the rhythm of abundance and release.

I am living in the space between old and new soul country. These days roll in and out, blessing me, grieving me with salty tears and giving me comfort in big cups of tea. Remembering that there is good in new spaces even as there is grief in leaving something that connects with my identity.

In a very different way my dad is in a time of ebb, coming into a new country of limited mobility and loss that he did not choose. A new way of being in the world. A new country he doesn’t want to enter.

Perhaps you stand at the doorway of something new. It could be:

A new job.

A new home.

A new kind of relationship (or lack of relationship) with an adult child.

A new diagnosis.

A new church.

A new way of being in your life.

A new understanding of yourself.

A new recognition that something is ending in your life.

A new skin--shedding off old expectations or wonderings.

A new friendship.

A new letting go of someone.

A new theological understanding of God.

A new invitation from the Holy Spirit.

At some doorways we are ready and joyful, but at others, we don't want to leave what is behind. New doors are not always welcome.

Now you find yourself at a doorway. You may be experiencing grief, joy, fear or great anticipation or trepidation, or a stew of emotions. But here you are. Whether you like it or not, you are leaving the "old country”, and moving into a new space.

You are being asked to go into the "new country" as Henri Nouwen calls it.¹

At different seasons of my life, I want to hold onto to the old country as I step into the new space. I say words like "this is a detour", "this is a season", "I will be back to the regularly scheduled program". Life will return to what I have known.

I said that many years ago when we moved to Oregon from Kentucky, "I'll be back! This is just a blip!" What I actually meant was--I will hold onto my old identity and community, and won’t let go.

I said that at age 40 when my son was born. "This baby stage is a detour to my path; I'll be back on my real path soon!"

I said that age 44 when my daughter was born with Down syndrome. "This is a season of bumpiness at first and then life will be back to what I expect and know. My regular planned life is still happening. Hang on."

Or with my child's next diagnosis, "Let's just get through this and back to our regularly schedule program. Let's just keep focused on that."

My first reaction to the Outpouring at Asbury was: "That was like an intense international mission trip and now it's over and we can get back to life as normal." I actually said those words. Now two years later, I realize that I have stepped through a door and can never go back to pre-Outpouring.

I said similar things when my jobs have shifted and changes, relationships ebbed and flowed, and now, as I move into a new era in my life, leaving higher ed and working remotely, I find myself saying the same thing. "I'll be back." "It's just for a bit." And let me try and take as much as I can with me into the new country.

Of course, a new "thing" in life does not mean that everything in the past is forgotten or that I cannot take things with me for better or for a season. Sometimes new unwanted or wanted seasons are short lived. But there is much to learn about releasing the old country for what is ahead.

The Holy Spirit has said to me time and time again:

You can trust the path.

"Nothing is wasted. This isn't a detour in your soul. The path you are on will bring you everything you need for maturity and completion. You can trust the path." (inspired from James 1:2-4).

I am learning that there are no detours in life when you are following God.

Every path is transformative.

Even the steep, rocky, painful paths. Especially those.

When our spiritual ancestors, Abraham and Sarah, left Ur to go to a new place, they must have wondered--will God be there as well? Their neighbors believed that gods lived in statues and stone, in the river, in totems and a specific geographical location. As they started out on their journey into the new land, leaving their people and family, to the land that God would show them, they have felt a great stirring to leave, but also fear, wondering-- will God be in the new place?

As they went along the journey, they stopped, and at each stop Abraham built an altar. And God was there. Again and again, God met Abraham on the journey. Wherever they went, God was there. God came close to Abraham and Abraham came close to God.

Whatever new space you are walking into today--or this year--God is there.

You can trust the path.

If you find yourself stepping into something new--like me--let's go together on the journey and build altars along the way.

If this is a dark room you are entering--a new diagnosis, a divorce, a deep loss of someone in your life--it is all the more important to build altars.

Begin today.

Find a stone. Or a brick. Or a pebble. Or a flower. Or a candle. Or a picture of something that brings you hope.

Hold it in your hand, and pray something like this:

God, this is a new country for me. I don’t know if I am fully ready to leave the old.

I feel __________ (confused, excited, joyful, exhausted, fearful, etc.).

Are You here with me?

Will You stay with me in the new place?

Help me to trust that path that I am on is not a detour from Your Presence.

I trust You to use all things to make me complete and mature in You.

When you are done, put your altar somewhere safe. Tomorrow, do the same thing and continue to build your altar.

This growing altar is a sign that God has come close to you and you have come to God as you enter the new country. Day by day.

These mortal lives we live are deeply painful and incredibly beautiful. The path we are on is sure to take you into the heart of God as you surrender to what is ahead.

The Good News is always that God goes with us. Transforms us. Turns us from stone to fire.

Soul alchemy.

When given to God, we have mortal lives that burn as beacons of hope for the immortal journey of the unfolding kingdom of God.

Friend, whatever you are facing today, God is with you. This is the enduring promise. If I can pray for you, let me know either in the comments or you can direct message for me.

As I build my altar in this season, I’ll pray for you.

1. I return to his essay on the New Country again and again as a guide to the new places in life. Here is Henri’s beloved reflection, “Enter the New Country” from his book, The Inner Voice of Love.

You have an idea of what the new country looks like. Still, you are very much at home, although not truly at peace, in the old country. You know the ways of the old country, its joys and pains, its happy and sad moments. You have spent most of your days there. Even though you know that you have not found there what your heart most desires, you remain quite attached to it. It has become part of your very bones.

Now you have come to realize that you must leave it and enter the new country, where your Beloved dwells. You know that what helped and guided you in the old country no longer works, but what else do you have to go by? You are being asked to trust that you will find what you need in the new country. That requires the death of what has become so precious to you: influence, success, yes, even affection and praise.

Trust is so hard, since you have nothing to fall back on. Still, trust is what is essential. The new country is where you are called to go, and the only way to go there is naked and vulnerable.

It seems that you keep crossing and recrossing the border. For a while you experience a real joy in the new country. But then you feel afraid and start longing again for all you left behind, so you go back to the old country. To your dismay, you discover that the old country has lost its charm. Risk a few more steps into the new country, trusting that each time you enter it, you will feel more comfortable and be able to stay longer.