Canaan Bound

When Clint proposed a little over 8 years ago, the song playing in the background on repeat was Canaan Bound, by Andrew Peterson. The song is written from the perspective of Abraham, inviting Sarah to join him as they begin their journey toward Canaan, this foreign land that God was calling them to. I knew Abraham had always been a big deal to Clint, and the invitation seemed fitting enough, as long as I ignored the part about the "fair and barren one."

Over the past 6 months, this song has taken on new meaning for me, partly because I've been studying Genesis since September through BSF, and partly because we're preparing to set off on our own unknown journey.

In less than two months, Clint is quitting his job. This decision has been official since about Thanksgiving. It's been lurking in the back of our minds for quite a while, and I don't think it came as a surprise to any of those around us. We have loved our last four and a half years here and are so thankful to have been a part of such a vibrant ministry. At some point I'll write another post on everything I've learned during my time here, because I need more than a few sentences to list it all. But our time at camp has run its course. We're ready to kick grad school up a notch so Clint graduates before Caleb does, get involved in a church as a family, and maybe even take a vacation or two during the summer (a novel idea to us camp people).

So what are we doing next?

Um...good question. When you find out, please let us know.

I recently finished the book Bittersweet by Shauna Niequist, author of Cold Tangerines and a writer after my own heart. Over the last few months I've laughed about her inner tantrums and cried as I read about her miscarriages, but the last chapter hit home in a more personal way. She writes:

"Let's stop acting as if religious professionals are the only ones who have a right and a responsibility to tell God's story. If you are a person of faith, it is your responsibility to tell God's story, in every way you can... In one of my favorite Tyler James songs, he says, 'My life's not a story about me.' My life is not a story about me. And your life's not a story about you. My life is a story about who God is and what he does in a human heart... When we tell the truth about our lives - the broken parts, the secret parts, the beautiful parts - then the gospel comes to life, an actual story about redemption, instead of abstraction and theory and things you learn in Sunday school."

I love to see God work in my life, to see Him answer prayer and correct my character and weave these intricate details into my story that leave no doubt who the Author is. But if I'm honest, it's much more fun to share these stories in hindsight, when the outcome is settled and God came through and the bow is wrapped neatly on top.

Right now, we have no idea how God is going to come through. We do believe that He has called us to leave (camp, not necessarily Tyler), and we do know that He is faithful. He's already taught us so much through this process, about letting go of expectations and being okay with being uncomfortable and waiting and praying and waiting some more.

I can't wait to tell people the story of God's perfect provision and His impeccable timing and how trustworthy He is. But I've been convicted lately to share with people this part of the process, the part where life is scary and you feel irresponsible and you don't know how it's going to turn out, and all you have are these vague promises from God that He is faithful and has plans for you and that He cares more for us than He does for the birds of the air and the lilies of the field.

So that's where we are. Waiting. Praying. Hoping that this would be true of us also:

"...yet, with respect to the promise of God, [Abraham] did not waver in unbelief but grew strong in faith, giving glory to God, and being fully assured that what God had promised, He was able also to perform." Romans 4:20-21