The last few months have been a whirlwind. It’s been easy to see the hand of God moving, providing, parting the waters, clearly shaping our hearts and going before us.

But in the last few days, the winds have changed. If it weren’t for the powerful work of the previous months, I would be tempted to believe that God has removed His hand. Actually, I am tempted to unbelief, but in His mercy, I can see it as a lie.

I’ve been working out a lot lately, trying to increase my strength and lose a lot of weight. After I’ve been off for a couple of days, it’s always good to get back to the gym, to push hard on cardio, to really work hard on the weights. Afterward, I’m exhausted – my muscles are shaky and spasming, I’m soaked in sweat. I shower, eat, rehydrate, and I’m fine. The next day, I’m aching. I don’t want to go back.

But I go. I know I need to go, for my health, for continuingly building results. And deep in my heart, I really want to go, because I want to work through the pain, to feel better. And that’s where we are.

It’s hard to keep going. Three days ago, I was ready to take on the world, and now the wind has dropped and my sails are sagging. Yet I know that God is still here, is still leading, providing, making the path. I have grown, and am a different man than I was 6 months ago. And so now, I need to take that step out the door, to keep moving forward, pursuing the call we feel God has given us. My soul aches – longing to be more, longing to have the faith to overcome, longing to see this vision become real. Now I see a poor reflection.

Today was going to be a long day – call at 7:45, first service at 9, second at 10:30, then a 5th Sunday Worship and Prayer service at 6, with a rehearsal and sound check at 3:30. There was something to it that I was looking forward to – pouring myself into one last long day of service. I was extremely satisfied with the mix Thursday night at rehearsal. Extended yet clear low end; a volume level that felt engaging and uplifting, but not oppressive; clarity, yet a wall-of-sound.

Instead, with the weather this weekend – a good 6 inches of snow Friday & Saturday, icing over Saturday night – the day was trimmed to just a 10:30 rendition of the Worship and Prayer service. It was a truly glorious time. Andrea was on the worship team, and without drums and electric guitar, there was a wonderful simplicity to the mix. I felt free enough to worship, to sing at the top of my lungs, to engage in prayer.

As we are moving toward our big move to South Asia in the next couple of months, I have to let go of some things. The house we’ve lived in for almost three and a half years – my first house, which I bought three years before we got married. The company I’ve been a part of – a partner in – for 9 years. I’ve been a part of Grace for 17 years – been serving the church in sound for all of that time, from the first day I visited.

I remember the first time I walked up the hill to the Barn with my roommate to visit Grace. It was the third week, and we got there in time to help set up, which involved moving numerous sofas upstairs to make room for the kids, throwing a piece of plywood and a tablecloth over the pool table for the “welcome center”, and setting up the sound system – at that time a borrowed Toa 6-channel powered “cube” mixer. Paul played guitar and sang, and Scott had a lapel mic with a wired beltpack. We recorded sermons on a borrowed jambox. There were about 30 people in that room, and it was wonderful.

I’m handing things off to a great guy. Daniel has a huge servant’s heart, and is an extremely talented engineer. I think he’ll have the schedule flexibility to take this ministry to another level – where I’ve longed to go, but couldn’t in this season. I’m getting to pursue something I really feel called to – getting to pour the skills and talents I have in audio and in web technology, even in training and discipleship, into a missions lifestyle, and getting to do so alongside my amazing helpmate.

But there’s still a feeling of grief in this process. What will the next couple of months be like? One of my gifts is service – will that part of me starve while we wait for the day to arrive to leave? How long should I continue to lead our community group? What will it feel like to be home, or at least not going to rehearsal on Thursdays, getting up early on Sundays, planning for the big Good Friday and Easter services? We’ll probably be leaving just before Easter – will it feel like Easter?

This morning we woke up at a fairly normal time, and were feeling pretty good. The car horns, the grunting (not lowing) cow, the dogs, the rooster all conspired to keep us awake during the night, but we slept quite well. Andrea and I took a walk through the neighborhood after breakfast, taking in the different houses and gardens, the vacant lots full of weeds, trash and discarded coconut husks. We checked out a couple of shops and waved to children at a small school, out in the yard taking their recess.

Lunch was dosas and idli, with sanibar and coconut chutney, from a small café on the corner. Andrea and I tried masala dosas, which were quite good, although they left a little warmth in the belly. After lunch, we drove across town to see a temple and shrine – very sobering. It’s amazing to see how hopeless a religion has such a stranglehold on the people here. Tying orange threads on a tree to give your burdens to a god, dropping small coins in pots to signify prayers, sitting quietly staring at a giant statue of the god, all to gain a god’s favor, to hope to manipulate the god into blessing them.

We spent a couple of hours wandering through a mall adjacent to the temple – actually, the parking garage for the temple is underneath the mall. We stopped at a hallal chicken shop, then headed home for dinner, which was a delicious version of a local chicken and spinach dish. We’re winding down now, feeling a bit weary, but looking forward to fellowship tomorrow.

I’m struck, this morning, by how much our world is changing. Sure, the global society is evolving, but I’m not thinking that big. Andrea and I are going through massive shifts in thought and focus, and if I let it, it will overwhelm me.

In a month, we’ll be a matter of days from flying to South Asia, exploring what may, if the Lord allows, become our new home for at least 2 years. I’ve lived in our current house for 6 years, in the Nashville area for 17 – almost as long as I lived in the home in which I grew up. I’ve been in my current job for almost 9 years.

This month marks massive changes in our finances. We’ve been blessed to avoid the downturn in the market until now, but it has finally trickled down to us. The budget we’ve been working on for the last 3 months is irrelevant now, but the basic principles we’ve been learning and trying to apply definitely come into play.

Again, if the Lord allows, when the time comes to move, we’ll be moving freely – debt-free for the first time in our marriage, for the first time in years for either of us.

These are the things that play in the background, like shadows cast by a campfire. And here is what blazes before me – words from Joshua and the Psalms:

Joshua 1:5bJust as I was with Moses, so I will be with you. I will not leave you or forsake you.6 Be strong and courageous, for you shall cause this people to inherit the land that I swore to their fathers to give them.7 Only be strong and very courageous, being careful to do according to all the law that Moses my servant commanded you. Do not turn from it to the right hand or to the left, that you may have good success wherever you go.8 This Book of the Law shall not depart from your mouth, but you shall meditate on it day and night, so that you may be careful to do according to all that is written in it. For then you will make your way prosperous, and then you will have good success.9 Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be frightened, and do not be dismayed, for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go.

Psalm 127:1 Unless the Lord builds the house, those who build it labor in vain. Unless the Lord watches over the city, the watchman stays awake in vain.2 It is in vain that you rise up early and go late to rest, eating the bread of anxious toil; for he gives to his beloved sleep.

Psalm 128:1 Blessed is everyone who fears the Lord, who walks in his ways!2 You shall eat the fruit of the labor of your hands; you shall be blessed, and it shall be well with you.

The first is God’s calling to Joshua, just as Israel is ready to cross the Jordan River. Moses is dead, and Joshua is being called to lead his people into the land God has promised them – a partial fulfillment of a covenant spanning centuries. And it feels like we are in a season like this. I am haunted by doubts – whispers that I am not up to this task, that this is a fool’s errand. Yet deeper in (or maybe “further up, and further in”), a stronger voice calls out, that God knows me, created me, grows me. That this is a season of fulfillment, of calling, of redemption, of being made new. So I strive to submit to verse 9, to remember my calling, to remember that God is with us, and will not forsake us, and the Spirit enables us to be strong, to be courageous.

The second and third are from the Psalms of Ascent, sung by Israel as they journeyed to Jerusalem to worship. There is both comfort and warning in Psalm 127. While the warning is apparent, the comfort is in converse: if the Lord builds the house, if the Lord watches the city, then work and watch are not in vain. The Lord’s blessing and kindness brings rest, peace, and fulfillment. This is reflected in Psalm 128 – the blessing for those who fear the Lord. This is our calling, in this season: to fear the Lord, to not be anxious, to be confident in the work the Lord is doing, and has done over the past 28 and 35 years.

Some of you were there – literally there – a little over 13 years ago when it happened. When my shoulder fell apart. Adam and Lindy were there when I was reaching for stuff in the air while the docs at Baptist put my joint back in place, but not really back together.

This month marks the 13 year anniversary of when I finished PT for my shoulder reconstruction. They repaired the rotator cuff, reattached some tendons and ligaments, and left me with a 5″ souvenir scar – “I had my shoulder rebuilt, and all I got was this dumb scar.”

It’s been bothering me a bit over the last couple of years. A big shift in the weather, and I’m feeling it. Can’t get comfortable at night. Growling a bit more at my friends, coworkers, neighbors. The weather changes needed to trigger the aches have been getting smaller, and after quite a bit of encouragement from Andrea, I talked to my doctor, and made an appointment with an orthopaedic specialist.

The nice thing about going to a respected doctor at Vandy is that, through him, I’ve got access to some amazing specialists. I saw Dr. Hannah at the Vandy Sports Medicine Clinic this last week, and was very impressed. The clinic is run like a well-oiled machine, clean and fresh. The staff and nurses treat you like a patient, not a file. Dr. Hannah was compassionate, listened; he didn’t get overly clinical, yet was very professional.

So, the x-rays looked good. Quite good on Vandy’s computerized medical imaging system. It was pretty cool to see it on a nice widescreen lcd, where he could adjust the “lighting” of the “film” with a trackball, rather than having two settings: one bulb or two. Structurally, he said everything was fine. It’s simply that when you rebuild a joint, it doesn’t go back together exactly like it should, so the wear is a bit different. Just needs a little tweaking, a little maintenance. No surgery at this point.

I’m taking a stronger anti-inflamitory for a month, and starting 6 weeks of PT next Friday. I’m really hopeful, at this point. I’ve been dreading going back to the ortho, dreading the spectre of surgery, remembering how hard it was. But I’m not in the midst of a severe depression this time. I’m not alone in a dorm room, trying to balance classes, work, being an RA. I have a wonderful and supportive wife, and I’m at home. So I’m hopeful.