“Circling,” Part 2 [Mth 2-Day 27-Post 18]

“I was wrong”—three of the most difficult words ever spoken in the English language.

I like to be right. All of the time. Just ask my husband. So when someone basically says to my face, “You’ve got it all wrong, girl!”—yeah, I don’t do well with that. I blame the perfectionist in me that insists I’m right. But eventually, if I’m really not right, well, then, yes, fine, I have to give in. Give credit where credit is due.

In Jim’s case, I wasn’t going to back down easily. He had a lot going against him from the get-go. Put three naïve, twenty-something, baby Christian women in a room with an unleashed, hardcore-Truth-spouting, preacher teacher, and you can bet you’ll get some kick-back!

You see, not only did Jim tell me I was way off track, but he also told my friends “A” and “M” that they were too. All of us had the same fearful reaction and decided to run for our lives. Safety in numbers, right? And yet, we were all making the same mistake. Jim was right…about ALL of us.

Of course, looking back, it was far too easy for all three of us to collectively throw away Jim’s insights. At first, I journaled everything he spoke to us individually that night, wanting to make any kind of sense of it. But I personally wanted him to be wrong on so many accounts. So in my little act of rebellion, I literally ripped those pages from my journal and burned them. (Yeah, I have had my drama queen moments too.) Jim had even given me a book about modern-day prophecy that I threw out (since burning a whole book is against my literary nature).

So what did he say anyway? First, he held that God wanted to bring someone special into my life but that I should be careful of the preceding “counterfeit” ones. Well, I hadn’t even had a boyfriend in seven years, and I was completely content with being alone, at least until I finished seminary (which might have been up to seven more years if attending part-time). I seriously didn’t need the distraction from my studies anyway. Jim also insisted that I shouldn’t “hide” in “school” but seek to be somewhere where I could develop my spiritual gifts and deepen my faith. These were just a few of the insights he offered me, as well as my friends, before we called it a night.

After that, A, M and I all washed our hands of our meeting with Jim. It wasn’t until January of 2003 that it even crossed my mind again. I was living with some new acquaintances in Georgia, when one day I happened to glance over my friend’s shoulder to see that he was emailing none other than this same JIM! And we know that we don’t serve a God of coincidence! God clearly brought all these things to the surface so I could realize that Jim was right all along and confess my grave error.

So how did I end up in Georgia, of all places? Well, in August of 2001 (five months after I met Jim), I met a man, “K,” who I instantly fell in love with and began to build my life around. Within a few short months, we spoke of marriage and I had a ring on my finger. I was working full-time at a seminary in Boston, so I was attending classes part-time towards a Master of Divinity tuition-free. Countless people throughout my life had told me that I should pursue that very degree and go into full-time ministry. I was sure I was on the right track. Everything seemed perfect.

Almost everything. You see, my student orientation day was September 11, 2001. “9/11” was my “Welcome to School” day, followed by the world unraveling around us. My position at the seminary was eliminated without any warning the following March because of 9/11 fallout. No more job meant no more free school. Plus, I had been living on campus as a student, so I also had to find my own apartment right away. With so much happening at once, my spirit was unsettled, each day bringing me to tears but without a pinpoint cause. Soon, K and I also realized that our relationship had lost its center on the Lord. We had instead focused on each other with unhealthy intensity. We decided to dial our relationship down to friendship, at least for the time being, until we could get our feet back on solid ground. (I wasn’t ready to think of K as one of Jim’s so-called “counterfeits.”)

So. About a year after meeting Jim, I had lost my job, my home, my boyfriend (along with our combined future), my school (along with an expected degree and possible career path) and my entire game plan. My life had fallen apart before my eyes. I didn’t even realize it until one day when I met with a counselor from my church. I explained to her all the things that had happened, and she said, “It sounds like you have a chance to start everything over, from scratch.” Choking back my sad, familiar sobs, I thought that just maybe, an end to my plans had suddenly become a beginning to God’s.

I left that meeting and immediately got into a car with my mother to drive down to New Jersey to visit family for Memorial Day weekend. I asked my mom not to talk to me for the first two hours of the trip so that I could hear from the Lord what I was supposed to do next. How exactly was I supposed to begin again? The slate had been wiped clean; I needed new instructions. And the Lord did, indeed, speak to me. The only thing He said was that it was time to leave “home.” I had always lived less than two hours from my parents all through college and afterwards; God said this time, I was leaving the state. I had no idea where I’d go or what I’d do, but I knew He was giving me the chance to make a fresh start in my own “promised land.”

After driving back to Massachusetts Monday night, I met up with K for a walk in the park. After I explained what had happened over the weekend, he suggested that I look for discipleship schools, as that had been the truest desire of my heart since I first became a Christian. Then we cried a little together for the last time. On that cool, spring evening, we could feel in our spirits a whispered end, a gentle beginning. Remembering it clearly now, “we” were done that night. It was time to move on.

The next day, I typed “discipleship school” into Google and found many all over the globe! After several weeks of narrowing it down (to only warmer climates!), I decided to visit one in Georgia in July of 2002. Throughout those five days of observing various classes and meetings, I felt the Lord call me to move here and begin the one-year program at the end of that year. So I returned home to New England with one intention—to carefully dig up my roots, say my farewells, and with the faith of Abraham, start my journey to the Promised Land.

On December 26, 2002, my mother and I packed up my car and leisurely drove down the East coast over the next three days, arriving in Georgia after midnight on a Saturday night. On Sunday morning we attended the church where Raffa Discipleship School was based. And there that day, I met my future husband.

I immediately thought to myself, “He’s so the kind of guy I could fall for. I have to stay away from him!”

To be continued…