Change is hard. It isn't something that I particularly like, although I know it must happen. Actually, it happens everyday-we just don't always notice it. But when we do, it's hard.
It's funny, because I know change has to happen; for without it we would stay stale, never moving, never living, never growing to become more like Him. If we never embrace change, we miss out on experiencing what God may have for us around the bend in our life's road.
And yet I find myself, in some ways, resisting it, pushing against it. What if I don't find what I desire, what I think God has for me around that bend? What if? And if not, when I look back, will everything I had be gone? No turning back now. The road of life is a one way street. So I must keep going, never quite knowing what's around the bend. I know what I want, what I desire, what I think God has called me to. But again, there it is-the what if?
There is a stripping process that happens with change, when we let go of something that we have known, something that has become so familiar to us, things that we love. But we let go, because we think God wants us to.
But this stripping process-it hurts, it's scary. I'm left feeling naked, exposed, somewhat unsure. I want to reach for something to cover me, something familiar; and yet, I hold back with all my might, knowing that I have to let go and embrace change.
But I feel it, the nakedness of winter, the trees stripped bare for all to see their branches, some broken and going in all different directions. Do I look like that? Is my brokenness somehow exposed in this stripping process for all the world to see?
If it is, shouldn't that be OK? Aren't we all, at times, stripped down to our nakedness, our brokenness exposed as we navigate change.
But even the trees are eventually covered again, with new growth covering their nakedness. And it is the most beautiful sight to behold. One day, there is nothing and the next, you see it-tiny little buds appearing, stretching, reaching for the sun. And then one day, we forget that they even stood naked before us.
And so in my nakedness, I tip toe closer to the bend of life's road. Slowly I walk towards it, not sure what I will find. Slowly I walk towards it, clinging to the Savior that walks ahead, and the promise that He knows. He knows.
Looking down, I see it. Tiny little buds appearing on me, slowly covering me. Stretching, reaching for the Son. And one day, I will find myself, once again, fully covered on my life's road, looking ahead to the next bend.