Through the Clouds: Trusting God in Transitions
I was sitting in 19C. My head was resting awkwardly, my face towards the aisle, while Brandon Heath serenaded me through the ear buds of my yellow iPod, and my legs snugly nestled underneath the reclined seat of the woman in front of me. I was as comfortable as one gets on an airplane.
And then, rather quickly, something changed. Now, I've been flying on planes by myself since I was five or so, and I've flown with family and friends on many planes as well. I've experienced my fair share of turbulence before. But this time was different. It started off as slight turbulence (to which I didn't flinch), but it seemed to linger longer than the other times. And the longer it lasted, the more turbulent it got. When the plane dropped a bit (it felt like 100 feet), I watched as my fingernails dug into my thighs. A knot hastened to form in the pit of my stomach. My bottom lip found itself to be the perfect teething toy for my nervous teeth. Gasps and screams were let out of surrounding mouths, hot tea kettles letting out steam.
And then I mumbled under my breath, "Thank You, Lord. You are in control. You are good. No matter what, You are good." And peace spread itself across my lap and chest, a grandmother's quilt snugly tucked around my body. I let out a sigh of relief and belief filled my heart. He is always in control. I can trust Him. I smiled. I looked to the seat diagonally in front of me. There sat the man I concluded to be a pastor of a church down south who was coming back from a mission trip with a group of his church members, after much data was gathered via people watching (the only sport I'll ever make the major leagues in). Eyes closed, head down, hands clasped. He, too, spoke to the One in control. Now, I don't know his heart. I'll never know what he said to God, and I won't know what God said to him. But He smiled too.
The turbulence continued for a half a minute or so. And then, our path smoothed. I looked to my left where I knew sat my unspoken travel buddy. I first sat down next to him as he ate his McDonald's lunch before take off. I smiled, he smiled. I tried not to eavesdrop on his conversation with his wife before take off (one must draw the line of people watching somewhere). "That was some intense turbulence for such a big plane," he said, chuckling.
I nodded, "It certainly was."
"It was because we were coming down through those big, dark clouds."
I nodded again, slowly.
Coming down through the clouds. To get from above the clouds to below, you have to go through. I thought about this. Just the day before I admitted to my friend that I'd always had some trouble with transitions. Seven years ago my mother was first diagnosed with cancer. During her battle, I tried to keep it all together. I tried my hardest not to fall apart. I thought she needed me to be strong. And then when she got the news that the cancer had "settled down" and she began her road to recovery, I fell apart. I sunk into depression and experienced anxiety at every turn in a single day. Now, that was before I accepted Christ and became a new creation. But, in the back of my mind, as my mom is on her road to recovery once more, and is no longer in the hospital, no longer needs me to drive her to Boston or give her shots, one of my fears is that I'll fall apart again.
Transition is defined by the Merriam-Webster dictionary as "the passage from one state, stage, subject, or place to another." I know there are going to be many transitions in life. Whether it's in a plane coming down through the clouds, going from college student to working as an adult in a challenging job, or going from care-taker to celebrating a recovery. Through all transitions, however, I know that God is in control. Worrying about what could happen during that transition ultimately won't change what actually happens. It's up to Him. My job is to look to Him. He is where I need to place my faith, my trust, my life. And He will provide the peace I need for the ride. Whether it's smooth sailing, or turbulent winds. Christ is my anchor.
The next morning, during my daily reading of "My Utmost for His Highest" by Oswald Chambers, I smiled as I read. Oswald pointed out that "In the Bible clouds are always connected with God...It is by those very clouds that the Spirit of God is teaching us how to walk by faith. If there were no clouds, we should have no faith....The clouds are a sign that He is there. What a revelation it is to know that sorrow and bereavement and suffering are the clouds that come along with God!" He is with me in the clouds. In the transition. As messy as it can get, He is with me. I am not alone. How glorious is His truth! And if I'm being honest, I'm currently not "feeling" as though He is with me. But following Christ is about taking Him at His word and not relying on our feelings. So I will continue to pray, seek His face, and trust He is present even in this moment. And the next moment, and the one after that. For our Father never forsakes us. He is with us always.
"And a cloud overshadowed them, and a voice came out of the cloud, 'This is my beloved Son; listen to him.' And suddenly, looking around, they no longer saw anyone with them but Jesus only." ~ Mark 9:7-8
"Therefore, since we have been justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ. Through him we have also obtained access by faith into this grace in which we stand, and we rejoice in hope of the glory of God. More than that, we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not put us to shame, because God's love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us." ~ Romans 5:1-5
And then, rather quickly, something changed. Now, I've been flying on planes by myself since I was five or so, and I've flown with family and friends on many planes as well. I've experienced my fair share of turbulence before. But this time was different. It started off as slight turbulence (to which I didn't flinch), but it seemed to linger longer than the other times. And the longer it lasted, the more turbulent it got. When the plane dropped a bit (it felt like 100 feet), I watched as my fingernails dug into my thighs. A knot hastened to form in the pit of my stomach. My bottom lip found itself to be the perfect teething toy for my nervous teeth. Gasps and screams were let out of surrounding mouths, hot tea kettles letting out steam.
And then I mumbled under my breath, "Thank You, Lord. You are in control. You are good. No matter what, You are good." And peace spread itself across my lap and chest, a grandmother's quilt snugly tucked around my body. I let out a sigh of relief and belief filled my heart. He is always in control. I can trust Him. I smiled. I looked to the seat diagonally in front of me. There sat the man I concluded to be a pastor of a church down south who was coming back from a mission trip with a group of his church members, after much data was gathered via people watching (the only sport I'll ever make the major leagues in). Eyes closed, head down, hands clasped. He, too, spoke to the One in control. Now, I don't know his heart. I'll never know what he said to God, and I won't know what God said to him. But He smiled too.
The turbulence continued for a half a minute or so. And then, our path smoothed. I looked to my left where I knew sat my unspoken travel buddy. I first sat down next to him as he ate his McDonald's lunch before take off. I smiled, he smiled. I tried not to eavesdrop on his conversation with his wife before take off (one must draw the line of people watching somewhere). "That was some intense turbulence for such a big plane," he said, chuckling.
I nodded, "It certainly was."
"It was because we were coming down through those big, dark clouds."
I nodded again, slowly.
Coming down through the clouds. To get from above the clouds to below, you have to go through. I thought about this. Just the day before I admitted to my friend that I'd always had some trouble with transitions. Seven years ago my mother was first diagnosed with cancer. During her battle, I tried to keep it all together. I tried my hardest not to fall apart. I thought she needed me to be strong. And then when she got the news that the cancer had "settled down" and she began her road to recovery, I fell apart. I sunk into depression and experienced anxiety at every turn in a single day. Now, that was before I accepted Christ and became a new creation. But, in the back of my mind, as my mom is on her road to recovery once more, and is no longer in the hospital, no longer needs me to drive her to Boston or give her shots, one of my fears is that I'll fall apart again.
Transition is defined by the Merriam-Webster dictionary as "the passage from one state, stage, subject, or place to another." I know there are going to be many transitions in life. Whether it's in a plane coming down through the clouds, going from college student to working as an adult in a challenging job, or going from care-taker to celebrating a recovery. Through all transitions, however, I know that God is in control. Worrying about what could happen during that transition ultimately won't change what actually happens. It's up to Him. My job is to look to Him. He is where I need to place my faith, my trust, my life. And He will provide the peace I need for the ride. Whether it's smooth sailing, or turbulent winds. Christ is my anchor.
The next morning, during my daily reading of "My Utmost for His Highest" by Oswald Chambers, I smiled as I read. Oswald pointed out that "In the Bible clouds are always connected with God...It is by those very clouds that the Spirit of God is teaching us how to walk by faith. If there were no clouds, we should have no faith....The clouds are a sign that He is there. What a revelation it is to know that sorrow and bereavement and suffering are the clouds that come along with God!" He is with me in the clouds. In the transition. As messy as it can get, He is with me. I am not alone. How glorious is His truth! And if I'm being honest, I'm currently not "feeling" as though He is with me. But following Christ is about taking Him at His word and not relying on our feelings. So I will continue to pray, seek His face, and trust He is present even in this moment. And the next moment, and the one after that. For our Father never forsakes us. He is with us always.
"And a cloud overshadowed them, and a voice came out of the cloud, 'This is my beloved Son; listen to him.' And suddenly, looking around, they no longer saw anyone with them but Jesus only." ~ Mark 9:7-8
"Therefore, since we have been justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ. Through him we have also obtained access by faith into this grace in which we stand, and we rejoice in hope of the glory of God. More than that, we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not put us to shame, because God's love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us." ~ Romans 5:1-5
Comments
Post a Comment