Humbled in Hawaii

I've ALWAYS wanted to visit Hawaii, but when I boarded a plane to Oahu for the first time the strangest anxiety swept over me. That's the funny thing about thinking you've finally conquered something. God will humble you right when you think you don't struggle anymore. When you begin think you have the Antidote by yourself, God will give you a new test to be sure you aren't losing Him.

I had a twinge of angst when we boarded the plane to the isolated islands of the Pacific being that we only had a one-way ticket. I had too much time to think and no longer needed to occupy a little human to keep him from screaming during the flight. (It's been over four years since I've been on a plane.) It was a strange place to find myself after years of controlled planning and essential neededness. I felt alone on an island....literally.

The world can close in around you when you feel alone, transitioning all the time. The second I get comfortable in a place, I leave again, but this is also where transformation has occurred in me. Everyone on the road assumes I'm just as breezy as Hawaii, but this couldn't be further from the truth. I'm a true type-A, planner at my core. We all have a dose of anxiety given the right circumstances.

After a couple days of jetlag and tropical colds, a local Hawaiian asked us what our goal or purpose was for visiting each island. It was a loaded question with an awkward answer-- we don't know. There's a strange blurring of lines when you are constantly plucked out of your "normal" life. We aren't necessarily vacationing, nor are we working. We are just living. Another transition. Another place. Another unknown.

But isn't this what I wanted? More dependence on the Lord? Sometimes it feels like I chose to jump out of a plane (which I have done and quite enjoyed), but I don't feel the parachute this time. My mind reels like a scratchy VHS on rewind, searching for the right place to land.

We want to surrender our plans, but we want to know the plans too. This paradox frames an uncomfortable space for anyone. It's like saying you want to quit smoking, but you continue buying cigarettes. We can't have it both ways. We can't live in Eden and still eat from the "knowing" tree.

Our souls won't allow us to rest and sit still in the unknown if we aren't first completely satisfied in Christ. This is why both the demons and the angels begged Jesus to "enter a place of rest" and not roam the earth without a place to call home. The greatest punishment of all is separation from rest, yet there is no real, long-lasting rest apart from God. "Therefore, [God] swore in [His] wrath, 'They shall not enter my rest.'" (Psalm 95:11) His presence provides us with the ultimate peace and rest that we crave.

When you jump out of the plane in faith, you abandon your natural disposition: feet on the ground. At that point, you also abandon your natural flesh: planner, controller, knower, comfort seeker. You either trust in faith and fall with strange jubilation, or you put back on those natural "flesh" dispositions, panicking to cover your shame like Adam and Eve.

Falling, though, takes time. You don't open the parachute right away. Being transformed or sanctified also takes time. Don't rush to open the parachute or you may get sucked back into the plane. Fall and learn to put on your "new spiritual self," which Christ gave without reservation. I'm thankful I didn't rush to put on my chute on the long flight to Hawaii because after a week in the islands, I felt a beautiful peace in the unknown again, but it didn't happen right away. Don't assume just because a place is beautiful that you will rest easy.

When you are most satisfied in Christ, He is most glorified in you. That glory leads to perfect rest. I'm SO thankful that no distance, time change, no plane, no height nor depth, nor any evil in this world can separate me from the love of Christ that gives me perfect peace. "Let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, since as members of one body you were called to peace. And be thankful." (Col 3:15) I am so thankful I didn't give into insecurities about the unknown transition, because I am loving island-hopping!

~Humbled Carefully and Carelessly