Journey forward, travel light

Lutheran, The, Jan 2004 by Melander, Rochelle, Eppley, Harold

Spiritual lessons we learned from moving

Last January we moved into our own home, just eight miles from the parsonage where we had resided for the previous eight years. When we joined the ranks of the thousands of people who relocate each year, we weren't prepared for the powerful spiritual effects that the move would have on our lives.

Perhaps we should have been. We knew moving is often wrapped up with God's call to do important things with one's life. Take the first time God spoke to Abraham: "Go from your country and your kindred and your father's house to the land that I will show you" (Genesis 12:1). In the gospels, Jesus sometimes demanded that his followers leave behind their former lives to move forward with him. He wanted the rich man to sell all that he had and the grieving son to leave his dead father behind (Luke 18:18-25;9:59-60).

As we prepared to move, we weren't thinking about God's plan for our lives. We simply wanted to pack all the stuff we had accumulated and move it to the new house in the cheapest way possible. At the parsonage, we collapsed in the middle of the living room floor, surrounded by piles of books, china and toys. We longed for the power to snap our fingers and magically transport everything to our new home. No such luck. We packed one box at a time and lugged each one into the rented van until it was full.

When Abraham responded to God's call to move, he "journeyed on by stages toward the Negeb" (Genesis 12:9). The ancient Israelites pressed on toward the promised land day by day, year after year, one step at a time. Imagine-a move that took 40 years to complete! But they made it. And so did we. As we packed and loaded each box into the van, we remembered that with God's grace all that we accomplish is achieved in "stages," whether we're building a house, writing a book or overcoming an addiction.

While remaining focused on our goal, we started to enjoy the process of moving (well, sort of). As we rubbed our aching muscles, stumbled up stairs (for what, the ten thousandth time?) and tried to defy the laws of physics ("I'm sure it'll fit if we only push on it hard enough"), we weren't always feeling particularly spiritual.

God prodding,coaxing us

Yet, amid the chaos of moving, we experienced the reality of the psalmist's words: "You [God] hem me in, behind and before. ... Where can I go from your spirit?" (Psalm 139:5,7). Sometimes prodding, sometimes coaxing, God works in the midst of life's transitions.

When Jesus instructed the disciples, sending them out to heal, preach and teach, "He ordered them to take nothing for their journey except a staff; no bread, no bag, no money in their belts" (Mark 6:8).

Jesus' plan for packing light rivals any we have seen in modern-day magazines. Jesus said, "Take nothing except your staff." Nothing. No lunch, no extra cash, not even a change of clothes in case the weather takes a turn for the worse. In other words, Jesus asks us to trust that either we already have what we need or it will be provided.

A wise neighbor once told us, "When I moved, I only packed what I would be delighted to unpack in the new house." Her words and Jesus' command became a mission statement for us. We vowed to take nothing with us that we didn't want to be a part of our lives.

We knew we couldn't leave all our belongings behind (though sometimes we fantasized about doing just that). But we had been feeling weighed down by possessions. We were spending more time than ever managing the stuff in the house. We dusted the stuff, moved it around and moved around it, stacked and restacked it, lugged it, lifted it, stored it and sometimes tripped over it. Our pile of possessions was getting in the way of our living and trusting God. So we got rid of stuff.

Letting go of old ways

Much harder, though, than tossing our possessions was leaving behind the other extraneous stuff in our livesthe habits, emotions, self-talk and messes we carry with us even when they no longer work. When we cling to the familiar, we have no room for new work, new ideas or new relationships. Jesus' instructions to the first disciples-these instructions for life-are meant to make our lives run better and give us time to focus upon what God has called us to do with our life.

Perhaps our greatest spiritual lesson came a few weeks after we moved into our new home. When our kitchen-sink drain backed up and water flowed through the floorboards into the basement, just a day after someone stole our stroller from the front porch, we found ourselves-like those Israelites of old-pining for our former home.

When the Israelites longed to turn back toward Egypt, where they had toiled as slaves for many years, they suffered a severe case of collective selective memory (Exodus 16:2-3). We may wonder why liberated people would want to return to a life of enslavement, yet many of us aren't so different. Every move involves stepping into an unknown future, leaving behind familiar comforts. Every new beginning includes an ending, and the grief of saying goodbye to the familiar.