We interrupt this sporadically occurring blog to bring you a developing story.
Over the past few months, we have taken time to pray, consider, and finally settle upon an opportunity as a youth pastor in an Assemblies of God church in New Jersey. We will be moving there in October.
This opportunity boasts less pay, further distance from family, and altogether fewer guarantees than the one in which I currently work. It also offers the chance to be in a part of the world about which I know very little, outside of the occasional joke I may hear from time to time.
Yes, I call this an opportunity. Which means one of three things: Either (a) Dan has completely lost his mind; or, (b) something has stirred deep within my soul, something that goes beyond rationality, into the realm of the spiritual; or, (c) both.
For those who have been following, or even glancing occasionally at, these writings, you have had an opportunity to think about Abraham. You have heard about how he left his homeland, leaving everything familiar to him, because he genuinely thought that his God had told him to do it. You have heard that he went “to a place which he was to receive for an inheritance; and he went out, not knowing where he was going…for he was looking for the city which has foundations, whose architect and builder is God” (Hebrews 11:8, 10).
When I thought it, it made no sense for several reasons. To say that my experience in a Pentecostal fellowship is limited would be an understatement. Additionally, I thought, why would I take a pay cut from my master’s level job, to put myself in a role that another educated friend of mine condescendingly described as a “glorified babysitter”? When I hear the phrase, “I’m taking my talents to--,” New Jersey is not what flows naturally from that sentence. Like Abraham, the phrase, “not knowing where he was going” seems to describe me very well.
That’s what happened when I thought about it; when I prayed about it, though, something entirely different happened. Like Abraham, I found myself longing for a “better country, a heavenly one” (v. 16). Like Abraham, I realized that “without faith, it is impossible to please Him” (v. 6). And, like Abraham, I somehow knew that God was calling me out on everything I believed.
For some time now, I have been intrigued by this man who left everything to follow something with more promise than what he had. The more I studied these passages, the more I wanted it: something better than financial security, comfort, or health benefits. I wanted life, and life abundantly.
To those as of yet unconvinced, this was more than just an early midlife crisis, more than even a thirst for adventure, more than the stereotypical generational pattern of serial employment hopping. This went deeper than any need that I felt compelled to meet. This came from the bottom of my psyche, telling me not to be afraid. This dared me to go all in and called me to lay down my cards. This was the next step in a journey of transforming everything built up within my brain, finally making sense of what James says about faith without works being dead.
You see, this is more than just about New Jersey over Ohio. It is more than being employed as a youth pastor versus a counselor. This is not about what God is doing around me, but rather in me. This is about my obedience to everything I say I believe, regardless of occupation or location.
So now we have a choice: to go forward “not knowing,” or to risk the psychosis of wondering what could have been. To the outsider, it may seem that I just up and left one situation for another. But this was the thing to which my life had been building, from my calling, to the people I have met, to the difficult steps of purifying my life of that which was unwholesome.
When we looked at it this way, we decided to go for it.
When Jesus says, “He who has found his life will lose it, and he who has lost his life for My sake will find it” (Matthew 10:39), I hear it loudly and find myself in a precarious balance in the struggle for control. But, despite my best attempts, can I actually control my condition? Is there even such a thing as social or financial “security”? Am I investing myself in the things that last, or am I just another voice in the crowd clamoring for self-preservation? For me, the Christian life is about recognizing that there is no security outside the “shelter of the Most High” (Psalm 91:1), and anything less to which we turn is in danger of becoming an idol.
All of which sounds nice, but can actually be quite scary when you factor our current pregnancy, the comfort of our support network in Ohio, and the relative reassurance of a steady income. I often wonder what Abraham thought when God first called him out of his homeland. We may never know, since the Bible simply says, “He went.” I think I may now have an idea, though.
Thinking about the various unresolved factors can be intimidating, even overwhelming. However, in praying about this decision, I have become on better speaking terms with Christ than ever before in my life. It challenged me to consider that my most uncomfortable and vulnerable moments in life have also corresponded to the times of the deepest sense of closeness to God. When I am weak, I am strong (2 Corinthians 12:10).
Abraham is considered to be one of the fathers of our faith. Now I truly see his fatherhood as much more than a biological dynamic. Those who long to know God, who seek to please God, who desire to walk with God, must know Him on similar terms that Abraham did: by faith. Not just believing that He exists, but putting actions to those things we believe.
I am not saying that I have actually reached that point yet. But I am ready to begin the journey. And I trust with all my heart that He will lead me there—not to “there” as in New Jersey,” but “there” as in the place where I can truly claim that I have put my faith in Christ.
What about you?
