My eyes are a little sleepy and heart a little full as I write this. The skyline of Las Vegas fills my windshield, and as my body fills the passenger seat of my “Lola” the Corolla, I can feel my lips turn up their corners into a sheepish grin.
Because I only have sixty-eight days left of my two hundred and thirty here in the desert, and because I just caught a glimpse of page sixty-six in my National Geographic Road Atlas that lays open on the floorboard.
At the top of page sixty-six there’s a little red box around a certain National Park, and I’m still fumbling to wrap my mind around the plot-twist that’s recently taken place in my life.
I’m moving to Glacier National Park, Montana in June.
“Wait, what?” are my thoughts exactly. Because just a couple months ago the Lord had pulled something wonderful and brilliant out of nowhere, and I was preparing to move to Los Angeles in May to write for a marketing company.
This morning, though, as I sat in a corner booth at the Chick-fil-A in St. George, Utah (which happens to be the closest Chick-fil-A to me and is worth every ounce of the four hour drive to get there), a footnote in my Bible whacked me with 1 Corinthians 2:9.
And it’s ironic, because I’d started my morning by reading about prayer and about how Jesus commands us to be shamelessly persistent in the way we ask Him for His good gifts.
But the small print at the bottom of page 1978 in my fifteen-pound ESV had me turn a few pages to the right, and that’s where I was struck with truth:
What no eye has seen, nor ear heard, nor the heart of man imagined, what God has prepared for those who love Him. (1 Cor 2:9)
Not once had I asked the Lord to move me to Glacier. Rather, I’d been asking for a cheaper place to live in LA than the apartments I’d been finding, and He gave me a home in Montana for free.
But He didn’t stop there. He heaped in free food for three months and a management position that puts my BS in Hospitality Management to good use.
The option to write for the company in LA is still on the table, and I’m working with them to do some freelance work despite the distance.
Friend, no eye has seen and no ear has heard and your heart has yet to imagine what He has prepared for you. And sometimes it takes spending time in a desert for our hearts to become more aware of the Lord’s goodness and more sensitive to His presence.
What matters to you matters to Him. And whether it’s your broken marriage, a wayward sibling, a potential career change, or your college graduation in two months, He hears the way your heart aches for clarity and reconciliation and whimsy.
Tell Him your fears, your dreams, your concerns. He’ll turn them into something remarkable.
I’m not sure what September holds when my contract at Glacier is over, but I know that we serve a God who gives us everything we need and who returns life to our dry and dusty souls.
He brings us rest, refreshes our hearts, and makes us more like Christ with the newness of His mercies every morning.
His protection and goodness are why we can walk through the darkest of valleys and still be able to say, “surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever.”
Give Him your details, and watch as He gives you more than you’d ever expected. It might not look anything like you’d expected, and sometimes it means moving to a state you’ve never been to before.
But as He’s been moving my life around lately, it’s been full of grace and careful attention to detail and nothing short of glacial proportions.