“Unfortunately, no, we can’t, I’m sorry,” I replied. I had practiced that speech on the way to church that morning. I knew the pastor was going to ask us if we wanted to go on the Peru mission trip that summer. I just knew it.
“We just had another couple cancel,” the pastor said. “They had already paid a third of their cost that can go toward your trips if you two can come up with the rest!”
“We really don’t have the vacation time. It’s too late to try to raise all that money anyway.” I had my list of reasons handy why it wasn’t going to happen. I wasn’t even going to think about it another second.
The service that morning was intense and really did speak to our hearts about possibly making that church our new home. We already knew quite a few members who also went on our Peru trip in 2004. It was certainly comforting to have so many familiar faces welcome and care for us. Some even mentioned they’d be returning to Peru that summer as well.
Later that night, we climbed into our beautiful new bed we had purchased less than six months earlier as part of a full bedroom suite. As we cuddled and exchanged pillow talk, Alex seemed pensive. He said, “I want to ask you a question. I understand that you don’t want to go to Peru this summer, but can I go without you?”
“No!” I said, without the slightest hesitation.
“Ok,” he said. “That’s all I wanted to know.”
“Why?”
“No reason.” He turned over and almost instantly went to sleep.
Well, he wasn’t exactly singing me a sweet lullaby, was he! In fact, I was rather perturbed by the timing of his question—now my mind couldn’t shut off as it prepared a list of reasons why I wouldn’t want him going alone. I was fully convinced that we were done with Peru, we weren’t meant to go back, we had other things to focus on, we had other things we needed money and vacation time for…we had plenty of other plans! My mind reeled for hours in indignant protest, until finally at 3 a.m. I heard a still, small voice inside me…
The Lord said, “Holly, if you stay, you will always stay. If you go, you will always go.”
Whoa. God was calling me out—obey or disobey, go or stay. I had the choice, and it would be a pivotal one that I would always remember.
So I started shaking Alex to wake up. “Hey, hey, I have to tell you something!”
“What?” Alex moaned, half awake.
“We can go! We can go! Both of us! We can go to Peru!” Suddenly, I was a giddy little girl; I had let go of all my reasons and just chose to obey with the faith of a child. And we were both so happy that neither of us could get back to sleep the rest of the night.
The following week was Easter Sunday; we had promised a friend of Alex’s long before this that we would visit his church that day. Alex knew several other people there as well, but this church was more than an hour from our apartment, so we weren’t considering it as a potential church home. The visit was enjoyable but uneventful for me. Not so for Alex, however. God was speaking very clearly to him about something during the service, but he didn’t share with me what it was.
That night, again quietly nestled in our sweet bed, Alex said, “I want to ask you a question. If God told you to sell all of your belongings and move to another country, would you do it?”
“No!” I said, without the slightest hesitation.
“Ok,” he said. “That’s all I wanted to know.”
“Why?!”
“No reason.” He turned over and almost instantly went to sleep.
No way! Dude! I was not about to have another sleepless night over such an ill-timed, random, ball-busting question like that! I turned over too and willed myself to sleep.
When I opened my eyes again, the clock said 1:00 a.m. Crap. Suddenly, my mind was wide awake, and for the next two hours I could not shut it off. But I wasn’t alone with my thoughts. I felt God’s presence there with me; I could sense something different in the air. I opened my Bible. I opened my journal. I opened my heart. And God spoke.
It happened again on Monday night. And again on Tuesday night. From 1:00 to 3:00 a.m. Then on Wednesday morning, I broke the news to Alex.
“Babe, I need to tell you something.”
“What’s up?”
To be continued.
The Art of Choosing True Life 