Relocation

Moving makes me weird. For the third time in 14 months we again picked up our stuff and relocated to a condo 7.5 miles west of our previous abode. We like it.

Deb reminded me that over a year ago I had said I would someday like for us to live near the University, and have a waterfront view. (In my own mind I also admitted this to be a pipe dream.) But in God's grace (and the generosity of dear friends) He has given us just that. We're within walking distance of the University. We have a picturesque view of the marina. We watch sea lions eating, and eagles fighting over whatever the sea lions leave behind. We really like it.

But I've also been observing myself during these transition seasons. How is it I can be myopic, bi-polar and ADHD all at the same time? For two weeks all I thought about was moving. When something dumb happened...like the TV audio not working, I was ready to commit an emotional crime. Whenever I started a singular moving-related project I also started four others. I have really confused myself about myself in recent days.

And it wasn't like we were moving between states. We didn't change time zones, zip codes or even our mailing address. It was just a cross-town move. No big deal, right?

I realized, sadly again that I am an idolator. As I get older I crave comfort, and control over my circumstances, and power over my surroundings, even the self-affirmation that I got things done. Yet (in reading Stephen's sermon in Acts 7) I was reminded that God moves people. Abraham got relocated. So did Moses. The apostles moved out and on. Churches get planted because someone is willing to move. And relocation seems to throw a temporary brick at the idols of comfort, control, power and even affirmation.

Moving is like preparing to live. Living is living. It may be I am not too effective at doing both at the same time. I'm just glad Jesus doesn't move even when I'm busy moving.

Nomadic Life

In the nearly 32 years of married life my bride and I have lived in six different cities, four states and five area codes, including thirteen different domiciles. We know we're not necessarily unique in this, for it seems to be the way of the modern wanderer. In the past year we've become accustomed again to the nomadic life.

And today it begins; we're relocating again. Same town, same area code, same zip code, just six or seven miles west (but feels north.) Today begins a two-week relocation process. Today I begin the unenviable task of packing up books (far fewer than I've maintained in years past) and my CD collection (entirely too many still.) Our home will slowly cease to be a home, and will instead take on the look of a staging area. It's what nomads do.

Our dear friends Joe and Karen are relocating, leaving the beauty and wonder of Southeast Alaska for the wonder and beauty of South Florida. Their move requires a great deal more than does our own. We don't want to see them go, and they're not sure they want to either. But God is sovereign, even over what awaits our friends in their new life on the other side of the continent. Some church does not yet know just how blessed they will be to have these two join them in life and on mission.

God's sovereignty prevails, often in unexpected ways. Joe and Karen approached us about living in their place. They made us an offer we couldn't refuse. Our prayer for a bigger living room (present church gathering place) has been answered. Their condo is within walking distance of Deb's job at UAS, and within biking distance of just about anywhere I need to go on the west (north) end. In a strange sort of irony we are losing our dear friends, and gaining their place. We are exchanging mountain vistas for a marine panorama. The reality of having a washer and dryer in the unit will seem to us a luxury.

So I'm checking out from high school sub duty for some days, packing things up and preparing to relocate. Compared to some other moves we've made this will be cake. But it has to start, it has to gain some inertia and momentum, and today's that day.

Nomads are only nomads, and sojourners are only sojourners when they get their nomadic sojourning in motion.

First Time for Everything

Radiant Church Juneau celebrated her first Easter Service this past weekend. In some ways it was not unlike Easter weekends in years past.

I got up out of bed on Sunday at 5am to be out the door by 6am. I bet every pastor I know did the same thing. (Easter is hardly a day of rest for church leaders; a good day for sure, but not necessarily restful.) I also had my sermon ready, and was devoted to prayer through the previous week (again, not unique to me.)

But there were also departures from previous years. I was out of bed and out the door early to secure a covered picnic site at Auke Recreation. I jumped right in behind a church finishing up their sunrise service, and inherited their remaining firewood. Knowing our own event didn't start until 2pm, I ended up having my own extended sunrise service. As it was, God decided to decorate His day in spectacular fashion. We live in a rain forest, and rain was predicted, but the day was glorious. I watched little Pacific porpoises feeding near the shoreline at low tide. I had conversations with several kids I know from the high school as they passed by on beach walks with their families. I tended the fire. I thought about the resurrection, and thanked God for that event and my resultant justification in His eyes.

Our folks showed up at 2:00 or before. Everyone brought food, a bounty I don't think I've ever seen for an Easter feast. Our Radiant Church people showed up to serve the others, and the others came to think about something other than State politics.

We had several from-out-of-town legislators and their staff people join us. We're learning how to serve them, how to be their church family when they are away from their own church families. We are learning how important it is to protect them, to resist the temptation to drop their names or tag them in Facebook photos. They're all regular people. They just have a lot on their minds. We're learning to love them, include them, and invite Jesus into every conversation.

Together we feasted, we sang all of those triumphant Easter anthems (we could remember) and I preached. And we had a great time. It felt like an extended family gathering. I cannot remember an Easter Sunday I have ever enjoyed more than this.

It was our church's first Easter as a church. Someday we will fondly look back at how relaxed, how organic and unstructured it was. And we did take photos...which we'll archive for ourselves to protect the elected.