I was sitting in counseling earlier this week and I heard myself ask the question that I had been holding close to me for months:
What if I made the wrong decision by moving to Columbia?
The decision process to move here wasn’t a short one. I had prayed and ruminated over it for a solid six months. I had a couple of good friends in Columbia. I was looking at the possibility of going back to grad school and Columbia had a couple I was interested in. Nothing was holding me in my hometown since I had been laid off from my job in the early part of 2011.
Plus, there was this guy in Columbia.
We were a perfect fit. We both had the same moral values, we shared a love for Target, and we got each other’s humor. We made sense. Only just a few months after moving to Columbia, our relationship sort of disintegrated. It was then that I came face to face with reality.
As much as I didn’t want to admit it, I moved to Columbia to give this relationship a fair shot.
We had been communicating long distance for several months. It just seemed like the logical next step. I guess what I wasn’t anticipating was what happened if we didn’t work out. What then?
As I unpacked this with my counselor, we began talking about decisions.
What happens when we make the wrong ones?
Do we go back or do we move forward?
I told her I feel as though my internal GPS (or the Holy Spirit) is recalculating my next steps now that my journey has hit an unforeseen bump in the road. My natural self wants to run away, to hide under the covers and not come out for a while, to wallow in my grief because things did not turn out the way I wanted.
Fast-forward a few days…
I was sitting in a gathering after church for people who are interested in becoming members. I listened as a guy across the table from me shared his story of being homeless and finding out about Crossroads through one of our ministries called the HOPE project that reaches out to the homeless.
He shared how his life is still a wreck, but he has Jesus and he’s trying to understand this concept of “community” and doing life with one another. I told him about my experiences with my community group since I moved to Columbia seven months ago.
They’ve become like family. They helped me move into my apartment. They prayed over me when I was battling major anxiety about starting back to school. They loaned me a car for two weeks when mine was having major costly repairs done. They’ve cared for me.
It was at that moment when God reminded me that regardless of whether or not I made the right decision to move to Columbia, He has a purpose for me being here today.
He is still navigating my life even when things fall apart and I feel like I’ve lost my way. He is still holding my hand when I’m questioning and when I’m doubting. Most of all, he still loves me even when I feel like He has forgotten me. And He will continue to love me even when I choose to turn away from Him and try to control my life because I think I can do a better job. So much of life is a choice.
In my New Testament class last week my professor said, “We choose how close we want to be to Jesus.”
It’s true. I can choose to find my fulfillment and purpose in Him or I can choose to find it in a relationship. I can choose to trust Him or I can choose to walk my own path. I can choose to let Him transform me from the inside out or I can stay exactly as I am. I have to make these choices every day, over and over again.
Some days I’ll make the wrong choice, but Jesus will be waiting for me with open arms when I’m ready to choose Him again.
*Photo credit: C1ssou