When a girl I liked moved away from our neighborhood in East St. Louis, it was an early lesson about letting go. The girl was fun and sweet and from my viewpoint as a child, 24th Street seemed dimmer after she left. I couldn't stop her passing through my life and neither could she or our other neighborhood friend, who also did not want to see her go.
In life, there are many passings. And we mourn them. When both of my grandmothers died during the same summer after my college graduation, my family walked away from a life we once knew when we left Sunset Cemetery. We will see them again one day, but their time with us in the old way had passed.
When I once lost love, I had to re-orientate my sights to new dreams. When I changed jobs or relocated to other cities, I found my footing in new places. When new opportunities meant exchanging abundance for fewer material things, I learned simplicity. This is the captivating nature of letting go. New understanding is gained; freshly minted maturity is experienced; more profound empathy is shown.
One of the essentially paradoxical things about God is that he does not change in character, perspective, and ability, but his kingdom is anchored in constant change. He's always building, rebuilding, structuring, and restructuring. He's always loosening our moorings.
And we must not be offended by the King of Kings because he maneuvers in our lives this way. It's "craven fear" to do so. While writing this post I am reminded of the character in Hannah Hurnard's beloved book, Hind's Feet for High Places. Even the onery Craven Fear in Hurnard's story was transformed. May we allow God to lovingly guide us through these changes in life, no matter how painful, so that we also can be transformed.
Right now, America is experiencing a great passing of the past. That passing is more than acknowledging that a 720 FICO score and a decent down payment does not guarantee you a house. This passing of the past also is about more than who will occupy the White House in January. These are shadows reflecting the intense movements of heaven. Isaiah 43:19 is cited so often it sometimes seems cliche, but it is fitting here: Behold, God is doing a new thing. Will we not know it?
During this Jewish New Year, 5769, what we can't see is the extensive work of God. He's adjusting the perception of everyone to catch the expansive dream of the kingdom. He wants everyone to realize that kingdom-building manifests in more ways than overflowing church parking lots and television programs drawing millions of viewers. Indeed, the Father wants a great company, but they will likely resemble David's men, unlikely recruits who know their God and the demonstration of his power.
These kingdom-seers display God's glory in the checkout line in the grocery store, and in the neighborhood business that gains a reputation for hiring as many people as possible instead of laying off workers to boost its bottom line. They are the small coterie of saints whose work among the incarcerated restores dozens upon dozens of families. Their labor is identified by miracles, not self-righteousness.
They don't fluctuate like the stock market when God carries them through one season and then the next with rapidity. They travel his breakneck highways with joy.
Judy Howard Ellis
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