“You’re not done here yet.”
As I wrote the words, tears sprung up.
“Look at the opportunities I’ve placed before you. You’re not done here yet.”
With that, I had to get up and leave the service. I’m not big on crying in church.
A month and a half ago, a friend forwarded me a job posting that would place me in central London. I have a great love for England, and this seemed like the ideal way to get back there. The people who posted the application encouraged me to apply, stating that they would consider an overseas applicant, should there not be one found in the U.K. I happily submitted my C.V. and had a friend willingly provide a glowing reference letter.
The past two weeks my schedule has been getting busier and busier. I’ve been meeting new and interesting people, and having lots of conversations with non-believers about the faith. God has opened up to me any number of opportunities for volunteerism, personal development, friendship, and spiritual growth. I also started to get the niggling feeling like England wasn’t going to happen, and this not because I might not get offered the job, but because there was so much for me to do in Edmonton. So many opportunities had come before me. I quashed the feeling saying, “God can use me wherever I am.”
Today in church however, I was listening to the sermon, doing Lectio Divina, and out of the blue the words cam, “You’re not done here yet.” It didn’t even really fit with the theme or passage we were reading, but I knew without a doubt what it referred to. I spent the rest of the service struggling with the fact that I was being called to stay, instead of being called to go. I was being called to commit to this place for an indefinite amount of time. As a nomad, that scares me half to death. I love to move. I love to have new experiences, meet new people, see new places. I want to go back to England.
So many people refuse to go when God calls them to, whereas I’m willing to up and move as called upon. But when I’m asked to stay, it’s painful . I want to go. Yet, I acknowledge that there is no end of work here to be done in the name of Christ for the kingdom of God.
I feel like staying in Edmonton will relegate me to a small life. I don’t want a small life. I feel as though I will be kept from experiencing life in different places, as though it’s a bad thing. I keep on trying to tell myself that it’s not, but I can’t help but resent it a bit. I have wander lust, and this wanderer is being told to stay put.
I know why. The list was laid out for me, plain as day. It came to me shortly after the words, “You’re not done here yet.” Let me tell you, that list is not small. It includes providing support for certain key people, becoming an involved member of my church, developing Christ’s presence in my workplace and social sphere. I don’t want to get too detailed, as it would break trust of a few people. But I am definitely being called to stay. I told me sister this and she cheered. My heart was breaking a bit.
I’ve always told people to make sure they listen for God—to take his words seriously when he tells them to go. Some listen, some don’t. I’ve often used myself as an example of being willing to listen to God’s leading, to listen to the call to go. But that is so much easier when you want to go! Now, I find myself in the position of listening to God when he tells me to stay. It’s so much harder. I could ignore it, just as many people ignore the call to go, but really, that isn’t an option, is it? If I claim my faith as the foundation of my life, I would be a hypocrite to dispose of it because it doesn’t fit what I want. And isn’t a call a blessing? Isn’t it a blessing to receive guidance from one who knows me even better than myself? Isn’t it a blessing that the God of the universe who wants what is best for me is willing to guide me in that way? So I will listen. England, you’re just going to have to wait.