Drink Deep

I decided to move to Mexico because of a song on the radio.

I’d been wavering back and forth on the decision for about a week and my deadline was fast approaching. I spent a Saturday taking the scenic route to nowhere, blasting the radio with the windows down, waiting to get a word from God or from fate or to just sort through the murky desires in my own mind.

I stopped at a small creek on the side of the road and walked down until I couldn’t see civilization anymore.¬† I threw rocks and prayed and cried and waited until it was too cold to stay outside any longer. I jogged back to my car and turned on the engine to warm up a little.

And this song played.

I couldn’t explain why I knew that this song meant I needed to leave, what about it reassured me that I could embrace this new life laid out in front of me. But sitting by that creek and listening to these men telling me to lay down by the river, I knew. Listening to the song is, even now, a very emotional experience for me, looking back on that day and all the days since.

Last year, I was thirsty. I had been wandering in my faith and was near the point of total exhaustion. I had questions without answers and they were overflowing and pervading every part of my life: my relationships, my emotional health, even my work. Several close friends were concerned about my choice to move to Mexico in the midst of this, afraid that I would walk away from my faith and my friends entirely, afraid that I was running away. Maybe I was.

I left anyway.

After months of searching for the refreshing presence of God from the comfort and ease of my American life, I found Him overflowing here in Guadalajara.  The God who provides over and abundantly more than I could have ever imagined invited me to sit with Him and drink deeply this past year, to not worry about getting up and pressing on in my journey just yet.

Sometimes I think faith looks like persevering in the hard, and I learned things about God and myself in that season that I needed to face. But sometimes I think it might also look like sitting down where you find the water, even if there’s still a ways to go on the journey.

Less than a year after I sat by that creek in Nashville, I was facing the same impossible decision. I decided that it was time for me to leave Mexico, but I’m realizing that maybe that doesn’t mean I have to leave the river. God has been reminding me loudly and gently that He is Jehovah Jireh in the United States too, as long as I will admit my need.

I don’t know how long I’ll be sitting and drinking deeply of the presence, love, and provision of God here, but I’m not quite ready to stand up and journey on in search of answers to all of my theological questions yet. I have a feeling that path will always be stretching out before me, so I don’t think there’s any rush. And maybe I’ll be able to enjoy the journey more after a long, refreshing rest than I was when I was dying of thirst.

Because this journey? I think it’s meant to be enjoyed.




I’m linking up with SheLoves’ monthly theme:¬†flourish. Check out the other posts and tell us about how you’ve been flourishing here.

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