Between Two Worlds

This morning Teri and I went grocery shopping in France. We almost always shop in Germany because, well, we’re in Germany. But there’s a giant French supermarket only about 10 min. away, so we decided to make a stop there this morning. They have a wider selection of goodies like snack stuff and cookies and coffee, so we stocked up on those types of items. It was fun. Oh, and the first person we saw when we entered the store approached us with a clipboard and pen. He said something in French and wanted to give us a public opinion survey. Neither of us speak any French beyond “au revoir” and “bonjour,” so we said, “Sorry, we’re English speakers.”

“Americans?” he asked. We nodded, and he was like, “Where from?” When we said Maryland and Tennessee, he pointed at himself and said, “Ohio.” He explained that he’s a missionary (church planter) and that he works for this survey company on the side to make money. We told him we work at Black Forest.

So we drive 20 km away, go into a French grocery store in a medium sized Alsatian town, and the first person we meet is an American guy from Ohio conducting public opinion surveys.

There are a thousand words in my head to describe how I am feeling these days. The roller coaster ride continues – and it’s strange for me because I’m not normally a roller coaster person. Multiple times a day, it seems, I alternate between euphoria about returning to Tennessee and extreme sadness about leaving the girls and my friends here. There’s also a fair amount of anxiety thrown into the mix, as I’m currently searching for a job in Knoxville while living in Germany (not a simple task). I want to teach English at a Christian school, but although I’ve had a few leads, nothing has materialized yet. So I don’t know whether to mentally prepare myself for a life of teaching or… a life of something else. Where will I work? Where will I live? What will my life look like in the fall? Right now, I don’t know. It’s a curious place to be, as it makes me feel – once again – as if I am standing on the edge of a cliff, about to jump off into the abyss. Or staring down the road I’m walking on, squinting into the ever-thickening fog that clouds my view. I’m excited by the possibilities but also scared of leaving what has become the familiar.

This time of transition brings back a rushing stream of memories from two years ago. In April 2006 I had been accepted to come to Black Forest and I was in the process of preparing mentally, practically, spiritually, and financially to take the plunge. I was filled with excitement and scared out of my wits. Kind of like now. Except now I have that experience behind me, and realizing God’s faithfulness through that transition increases my faith about this one. He will lead me where He wants me to go. I know that, deep down. It’s just the surface issues that toss me about and leave my circumstantial stability in tatters.

But this is what I learned before, and need to be reminded of again: stability isn’t in my circumstances. Stability isn’t in my routine, my belongings, my surroundings, my family (real family or dorm family). It isn’t in Tennessee or Black Forest Academy. It’s in God. Only.

I like to think that I maintain a level of control over my own life. Perhaps, in a way, I do. But it’s only the measure that God gives to me. At any time, the stability I feel in my surroundings can be pulled away. People come and go. Buildings burn. Economies rise and fall. They’re all transient.

The only person or thing or element in all the universe that stays the same – it’s God. The solid Rock. The cornerstone of humanity and the universe.

In times like these, when the earth shakes beneath my feet, I want to find that Rock and hold on tight.