Keeping the Faith in Times of Change

December 2009

by Debra K. Farrington

It was known as the seminarian’s prayer among the students at the seminary where I worked some years ago: “Lord, save me from yet another learning experience.” Amen. Let me say that again: Amen! I’ve always loved that short prayer, and can’t even guess how many times I’ve uttered it over the years. Those words—“learning experience”—are often a synonym for the word “change.” Although I recognize that I’ve grown and learned a great deal from all of the transitions in my life, sometimes I’d be just as happy to have the world stay the same today as it was yesterday.

Over the last five years, there has been more change in my life than I can remember in any other five-year span. It started with a move to a new home. A beloved cat died, and then a second one. I was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis. I got engaged and then married, moved to a second new home, and became a step-parent—my first parenting experience—at age 49. Then I left my full-time job to write and lead retreats. After writing a book on living in covenant with our pets, I recognized a call to care for animals and started working in a veterinary practice. I then left that to open my own pet-sitting business a few months before the country slumped into a major recession. Then about a year later, my husband was laid off from his job, leaving us with a loss of income and our health insurance coverage.

That’s enough change in my book. I’ve had more than enough learning experiences for now. Like the Israelites wandering the desert after fleeing their Egyptian taskmasters, I definitely have days when Egypt—despite whatever miseries it held—looks more appealing than the journey into the unknown in front of me.

I suspect that you, no matter who you are, have some of those days too. If you’re not living through transitions in your personal circumstances, the world around us offers plenty of upheaval. The unsettled economy affects us all. The political instability of various parts of the world is downright scary. Even the churches we attend—the places we thought would never change, and maybe even counted on to stay stable in the midst of the world’s chaos—are wrestling with new ideas and new ways of doing things.

Journey in the wilderness

Learning experiences abound in today’s world, and I don’t see much evidence that they’ll disappear anytime soon. Aside from those days when I’m looking fondly back at my own Egypt, I have to admit that the changes in my world have actually helped me grow and—I hope—become more of the person God calls me to be. The multiple sclerosis taught me to slow down and pay more attention to what really matters. The deaths of my cats helped me empathize with others and help them through difficult decisions with their own pets. Getting married, learning a little about parenting, and opening my own business, while hard work in so many ways, have also brought great gifts into my life.

My husband and I are struggling to grow the pet-sitting business to a level that will pay for our household expenses and health insurance, but we’re doing it together, and at least we can’t be laid off. On those days when Egypt looks better to me than whatever lies ahead, I have to remind myself that God hasn’t called me to a stationary life, but has, instead, invited me to continue to listen for and act on the fullness of whatever it is that God calls me to be.

If you, too, are struggling with shifts in your world, let me offer some bits of wisdom I’ve gleaned from the stories of the Israelite exodus from Egypt and their long journey through wilderness times. If there’s any group that understands how tough transition is, it’s the Israelites. They were experts.

Expect change to be hard.

Knowing that the twists and turns will be difficult to navigate—that they’re not intended to be easy—helps me be a bit more patient with the shifting landscape. Biblical scholar Terence Fretheim, in his commentary on Exodus, wrote about how hard it was for the Hebrews to stop knowing themselves as slaves in Egypt and become, instead, the people of God. They spent 40-plus years working on that, and many of those who had lived a life of slavery never did make the transition to a new life.

Maybe the changes in my life and in yours won’t be as dramatic as what the Israelites faced, but then again, they might. New ideas, new ways of doing things, and living under changing rules and circumstances will be tough. God is okay with our grousing about it sometimes, as well as with our tears and frustration, at least to a point. God listened to the Israelites worry about food and water in the desert, and God provided those things that they really needed. In the midst of our own desert journeys, we each have to watch for the manna that God provides and find the courage to take it, to stop asking to go back to Egypt, and start moving forward.

Eat, drink, sleep, and stretch.

Living in the midst of transition takes an enormous physical toll on the body. Getting through the process goes more easily if we take good care of the frame that carries us around. In the midst of changing times, pay attention to consuming healthy foods and beverages, to getting plenty of rest, and to whatever kind of exercise helps you shed stress. Subsisting on fatty and sugary food and drink, eating too much or too little, sleeping too few hours each night, and being sedentary are all guaranteed to make navigating changing circumstances more painful.

God gave the Israelites the food and water they needed, and commanded them to rest from all that walking, not only on the Sabbath, but at other times as well. It was a good prescription then and it remains so today.

Give your imagination room to play.

Reading through the book of Exodus, I get the sense that many of those trekking through the desert were walking with their heads on backwards. Every time they hit a bump in the path they bemoaned the fact that they’d ever left that “kinder and gentler” life of slavery. In the midst of forging through new and strange territory the known behind us always looks better than the unknown in front.

There are times when what we left was, in fact, very good. Maybe you’ve lost a beloved spouse or friend, or a program or service once offered at your church or other organization that you’ll miss with all your heart. We need to mourn those very real losses, but there also comes a time, as Ecclesiastes 3:4 reminds us, when it’s time to dance. At some point, God calls us to recognize that what is ahead of us may also be good and worthy of consideration, and even, ultimately, celebration.

The Israelites got caught in this situation at the edge of Canaan. The spies sent in to check out that land first reported that the land flowed with milk and honey, and produced good fruit. But, the spies quickly added (there’s always a “but”), there were also strong people who could easily defeat the Israelites.

Caleb, one of the younger spies, asserted that any obstacles would be overcome with God’s help, but the older spies continued to let their anxieties about change get the best of them. The strong people became giants that would step on the Israelites as if they were grasshoppers.

In the end, the Israelites allowed themselves to be swayed by the timid spies’ exaggerated stories. Their fears about all the bad things that might happen overwhelmed the promises that God had been making to them for decades. They were not done mourning Egypt, so they could not move into the land God promised them.

Though it is challenging, one of the tasks of transitional times is to imagine what gifts the future might bring, instead of letting our fears get the best of us.

Try a little humility.

It’s a well-used phrase: “But we’ve always done it that way.” Those words come with an unspoken addendum: “We should keep doing it that way.” Whenever I find myself using that word “should,” I know I’m in trouble; I’m judging something or someone, sometimes even myself.

I learned this good lesson years ago from a wonderful pastor. After a sermon he preached, I complained to him that I felt guilty about not being able to do all that he was suggesting—or at least not in the way that I thought I should. He knew me well, however, and he knew that I accomplished the same goals, just in a different way. After listening to my worries, he looked me straight in the eye and uttered a simple question I’ve never forgotten: “So you think God gave you the wrong gifts?” So much for second-guessing God!

I have to remind myself often that I don’t know what God’s plans are for me, much less for those around me or in the world as a whole. A few teaspoons of humility can help me be open to what change might bring. Refusing to open myself to the possibility that God is behind change leaves me at the border of the Promised Land, listening to the voices of fear, rather than to those who have glimpsed a new and wonderful future God has invited us to experience.

Stepping out in faith

I don’t mean to make this all sound simple; it isn’t. With my husband’s job loss last year, there have been more than a few sleepless nights. In recent months we’ve had to decide if we continue seeking that elusive full-time job (that might bring both income and health insurance) or commit ourselves wholeheartedly to the pet-sitting business and trust that God has guided us here for a reason and will give us whatever resources we need to make this work. A phone call or letter from God telling us which road to take would be welcome right about now—but so far nothing has appeared.

So we have talked, prayed, and listened, and we have committed ourselves to the business that seems to be our path right now. We’re living on a much smaller income than we used to have and working harder for less pay, at least for now.

But we love the work, and we’re learning new things every day. So we’re moving forward with a combination of caution and optimism, and even great enthusiasm some days, in hopes that we have listened well for God’s invitation and guidance, and that what is ahead, like the land God called the Israelites to, will be good.

If that turns out to be the wrong decision, we’ll start listening and praying all over again, and try to do a better job next time. Change is like that, and few decisions are final while we navigate the desert spaces toward an unknown future. All we really know is that God walks with us, comforting and challenging us as we journey, and that is more than enough. Thanks be to God.

Debra K. Farrington is the author of eight books, including The Seasons of a Restless Heart: A Spiritual Companion for Living in Transition.