I stopped blogging close to two months ago. My wife and I made a move from across town to the home on the church property. We have enjoyed the place where we were living. It was a place in the city that felt more like living in the country. Although located within a mile of almost any kind of amenity imaginable, it was surrounded by trees and across from a forest-covered hill. Deer, squirrels, rabbits, ground hogs, and a host of birds inhabit the area and could be observed on the property frequently. A huge cedar, a large oak, an assortment of others, and even a pear tree, nestled on an acre and a half of hillside, gave the feel of country living. The front porch swing and the backyard patio afforded the opportunity to be transported back in mind to days long gone when, amid the sweat and heat of work, men and boys would stop and sit for a spell, sipping a soda and listening to the old-timers telling stories about the “good ole days.”

Seven years ago, we moved from South Carolina to Nashville, TN in a 26-foot U-Haul with a car carrier hitched to its back. We packed up everything we could (or thought we could not live without), gave away or threw away a host of boxes full of baby clothes (we weren’t going to need them anymore ), keepsakes (that really weren’t worth keeping), and stuff that I had not seen or touched since the last time we moved. It’s funny how we find letting go of that “stuff” so difficult. We packed up my library of over 100 boxes of books, and left behind about a third of it. We thought we were shedding the pounds and becoming a lean, mean moving machine. Men in my church still remember and talk about ALL those BOXES of BOOKS! That move was over 500 miles and this one under 30 miles. Why is it that this one seems more difficult than that one? We are still throwing away, still giving away, and still putting our hands on stuff that we haven’t touched in seven years! And we have ADDED STUFF since that last move! The last move of 500 miles took us about two weeks to pack up and unpack. This one of 30 miles has taken us two months. Is moving getting harder or are we getting older? (You don’t need to answer that).

Since coming to Nashville, I have worked for a company that serviced Home Depots, worked in a warehouse driving a tow motor and loading tractor trailers, served as dispatch and office manager for a wrecker company, and worked in Kroger stores, resetting and merchandising product lines and displays. These opportunities provided extra income to meet our needs as we sought to focus on the primary ministry of serving the church. Now, we are refocusing our lives to make ourselves more accessible to church members, to live and be closer to the people we want to serve and reach, and to pour ourselves into the lives of others. I have told my people that I feel that I have ten years of active ministry left, God-willing. I do not intend to “retire” from the ministry, but I know that age, health, and other factors will limit what I will be able to do beyond that. I want to give myself fully to the task of preparing the church for its future, to discipling and training, to teaching and preaching. I want to help the church realize the vision that it set forth at its inception. So, in order to prepare for this phase, the church and we have entered into a transition that will hopefully lay the foundation for this ministry to proceed and prosper with and without me.

When I was younger, I had the privilege of serving as camp director at a rustic camp in the North Georgia mountains. It’s a beautiful setting and is situated close to the Chattooga River, where we would schedule a day of rafting. What an adventure! We never new what to expect or what lay around the bend. First, each rafting group would carry their raft and equipment down to the water to set in. Then, after a few hundred feet of quiet, we would face the first challenge—a water fall with a 10-12 foot drop off straight down. Many rafters were floating down the river trying to reunite with their raft after capsizing there. There were swift rapids, where precise navigation meant the difference between staying in the raft or being thrown from it. In one instance, a fellow rafter swung his oar around and knocked me from the raft. There were places where, because of low rainfall, the river was shallow and we had to literally exit the raft and carry it to deeper waters. Bull Sluice, the final challenge before putting in, was both a curved waterfall and a whirlpool. Because of the way the water poured in there, it formed a tornado-like tunnel of whirling water that had caught some unsuspecting rafters and taken their lives. It was important to hit it just right, or trouble was likely.

That day of adventure stands as a picture in capsule for the way life flows. The ups and downs, alternating fast and slow pace, unexpected turns and falls, the safe calm and dangerous chaos all appear at unexpected and often unprepared moments. Transitions are a part of the life of faith. If you think that you are settled, if you think that you are secure, if you think that your life has become predictable, better hunker down and brace yourself. The next rapids may be lying just around the corner, ready to take you in a whole new direction or throw you off course. Some campers spent the entire day complaining about each new challenge or trial. They were so intent on focusing on the negative aspects of the challenge, on the difficulties they had to endure, and on the failures of the people around them that they refused to enjoy the adventure. Those who faced each situation, seeking to adapt, adjust, and accept each challenge, faired no worse than anyone else but enjoyed the day so much more!

Forest Gump, your mother was right! “Life is like a box of chocolates; you never know what you’re gonna get!”

Are you complaining about the transitions in life or are you enjoying life’s journey? Have you come to grips with the FACT that TRANSITIONS are a part of life and are you willing to TRUST GOD in these TRANSITIONS?