Sacred Stops on the Journey of Calling
The journey of calling is lifelong and God will plant us in different places, jobs, and seasons along the way. Why is it important to tune into God's voice to reflect on the purpose of placement?
Hey friends!
Let me begin by apologizing for going silent on you these last few weeks. Between starting a new job, apartment hunting, and having my parents in town, I needed a bit of time to settle.
My heart is full but my eyes are still a bit teary since my parents left to go back home. Last week, they came to London to visit for nine days and it was just so wonderful. The weather was sunny and beautiful for nearly their entire visit, but the day they left, the moody skies returned — clearly London was just as sad to see them go as I was.
The reality is it’s tough living so far away. Yet, there is one thing that gives me peace when I find myself feeling the depth of the distance — a knowing that God has planted me here, that he has good plans for me in London, and that his placement is perfect. So, I hold on tightly to his promises, knowing that there is still so much ahead.
Today I want to talk with you about placement and transition. You see, there is purpose in your placement. Wherever you are in the world right now and whatever season you are living through is part of your story, and God longs to speak to you about it.
So, let’s dig in together…
When God plants you somewhere — whether it be in a specific season, a job, a temporary location, or in a permanent placement — he does so intentionally and nothing is wasted.
This past year I became really fascinated with God’s placement on the journey of calling. After spending the last year shuffling between so many different places, I was curious as to the point of it all. I knew London was where God was sending me — he had confirmed it in more ways than I have space to type — and yet, I experienced so many stops and unexpected delays before he finally settled me here. Surely God, in all his power, could have expedited the process, but instead he chose to walk me through a longer journey. Why? What was he teaching me along the way?
Most of you know this, but since leaving LA for London, Dan and I have stayed in nine different places. A few months in, I found myself frustrated and worn out with all the moving around. I was exhausted! And, quite frankly, frustrated with the drawn out transition. I cried out to God so many times begging him to intervene in our circumstances.
I remember praying, Lord, all I want is to settle into a home in London — I long for a place to plant roots. I’m so tired of all the shuffling. When will it finally be time?
All I wanted was to get to London and step into our new beginning. And yet, his response was simple: “There is purpose in the placement, even in the transition.”
It took me a long time to ask the question I should have asked in the beginning. Could there be a greater purpose behind the stops? Could God actually be saying something sacred in the transition?
You see, up until then, all my prayers were for God to move quickly, expedite my visa, accelerate our move, and get me to the promise. So when God was silent, when my prayers weren’t being answered, I felt like he wasn’t speaking at all. But the reality was, I just wasn’t listening. I was listening for the answers I wanted to hear, but not for the invitation God was giving me in the transition.
There is quite possibly no better example in the Bible of God’s intentional placement in an in between season than the story of the freed Israelites. When God miraculously frees the Israelites from enslavement in Egypt, it still took forty years of wilderness and waiting for them to reach the promised land. There were whole generations that never saw the promise fulfilled.
God kept them in the wilderness, in transition, for forty years.
It can be easy to think of God as actually being quite cruel for making them wait so long — I’m often tempted to think that way. And yet, there was purpose in their placement, even when the placement was the wilderness.
You see, what the Israelites couldn’t understand was the deep work God was doing within them during those forty years. He could not let them reach the promised land unless they were prepared and ready to inhabit it. They needed the character and faith to match up to their calling. God needed to do a deep work within them, heal them from the trauma of slavery, rid them of the lies of previous seasons of pain, build their trust up again in his provision, and equip them with tools to navigate the complexity of the world with faith — there was so much purpose in the waiting and their placement along the way.
Although my own waiting season has not been forty years, it has been a long season of transition. Dan and I moved out of our apartment in LA in December 2022 and then we stayed with family until April 2023 when we finally left for London. Yet, as many of you know, we had to shuffle around for the next thirteen months between sublets, hotels, friends and family member’s homes while we waited for my visa to be finalized.
On Monday, we moved out of our sublet and we are now navigating a final three week window of shuffling before we get to move into our own place here in London. We will move into our new place on July 29th, 2024 — the day after my 37th birthday and exactly one year after my sabbatical began. God’s timing is perfect.
Our belongings are still scattered between California, the Outer Banks, and London, sitting dusty in storage units and boxes, tucked away waiting, like us, for our permanent placement. But the home I have been praying for and the roots I have been longing to plant are now in reach.
When I look back on the past 19 months, which marks the last time I lived in my own apartment, I can see so clearly the work God has done within me. At each of the nine stops along the way, he was teaching me something. And as I am beginning to peak my head out from the wilderness of a nomadic season, I see all the growth which has taken place. And now, on the precipice of planting the roots I have waited and prayed for, I can see that God has not wasted anything.
Of course it’s hard to feel grateful for the in between season when you’re in the thick of it, but as I reflect now, the only thing I can feel is gratitude. I’m emerging from this season changed.
Like the Israelites, God has healed me in incredible ways. He has spoken truth to counteract the lies and false narratives from previous seasons, he has built up an unwavering trust in his provision and protection, and he has equipped me with tools to navigate the complexity of this world with faith.
I am changed.
And, I am ready for the next stage of my calling.
Yet, before I fully immerse myself in this new beginning, I must take some time to savor my previous season.
Recently I was listening to Pete Scazzero speak about transition on his Emotionally Healthy Leadership podcast. He was sharing his personal story of how he is in the middle of a major transition, moving out of the Bronx where he has lived his entire life, and over to NJ. He is also preparing to pass the baton onto the next generation of leaders who will be taking over his work with Emotionally Healthy Discipleship. Talk about a big transition!
In this episode, he speaks about the spiritual practice of savoring. I’ve not quite used this word to name what it looks like to reflect on past seasons, but I find it especially helpful as I begin to step into my own new beginning. The spiritual practice of savoring requires us to look back on the season we are leaving and reflect on all God has taught us along the way. We invite God to highlight specific moments in which he’d like us to savor. To sit with. To remember. We reflect on the gifts he’s given us.
This spiritual practice requires prayer, contemplation, reflection, and gratitude. It invites us to walk with God through the previous season, asking him for a highlight reel of all he’s done. And it is the most beautiful opportunity to recognize God’s hand in your placement. Because, truly, nothing is wasted.
As I began to savor my last year, God has been revealing so much goodness woven into a very difficult wilderness season. It was probably one of the most difficult years of my life so far, and yet God has been revealing so much goodness and growth. I could spend all day listing the beautiful moments I’ve been reflecting on, but for the sake of time, I’ll name just one.
Community.
In a season of hopping from place to place, my biggest heartbreak was the loss of steady community. And yet, God showed me how much community he provided me with in this long transition.
I was blessed by my family who prayed relentlessly on our behalf, who always had the door open wide for our many returns and shuffles, who sat with us in painful places as we navigated transition, grief, confusion, and hope, whose love was constant.
My parents, especially, who I truly could not have gotten through this last year without. Even as I type this out, I find myself weeping. I’m so thankful and so blessed by them. Their home was a refuge for me. It was a place of peace, a place of encounter, a place of revelation. Their unwavering love and support changed me more times than I can count. They constantly reminded me who God was and how much he was for me. They never gave up hope. And, most importantly, they partnered with me in prayer even though they knew God’s answer would send me two flights and an ocean away.
I was blessed by my friends in London who embraced me again with ease, who opened their homes to us more times than I can count, who loved us through the many delays, who encouraged us, celebrated with us, and held onto us in the waiting.
I was blessed by the pocket community I joined in the Outer Banks. The women at my parent’s church embraced me, welcomed me, and adopted me into their community. Their prayers and words of encouragement created space for hope in my heart and reminded me of God’s love.
I was blessed by my new church community in London and the women at WELL. My church community encouraged me to walk out my calling with boldness. My writing was ignited through prophetic prayers from members of the church who didn’t even know me when they spoke them. The women involved with WELL spoke life into my calling and hope into my future in ways I will be forever grateful for. They gave me an opportunity to share my testimony and opened spaces for me to speak on identity and calling.
I was blessed by my friends all over the U.S. who stood beside me and encouraged me, who opened their homes, and reminded me to keep persevering even when things seemed darkest. My Vintage people in LA who sat on long phone calls at odd hours to pray with me, who constantly remind me of my identity and calling, who spoke life into me, and who always reflected God’s image in incredible ways.
I may not have been in a steady community in one place, but I had the very best community around me. God’s invitation to savor that has brought me to my knees in prayer this week. The gratitude I hold for all these amazing people is bubbling up within me and pouring out in tears drenched in love.
I am so grateful.
As I transition into this new beginning, I am savoring the community God gave me stretched between continents and oceans. I am savoring his work in the in between.
Are you in a season of transition? Or, a new beginning? Or, maybe even just a season of change? Maybe God is inviting you into the spiritual practice of savoring. Give it a try. I bet he will reveal some pretty spectacular things along the way!
Some practical questions to ask God as you engage with the spiritual practice of savoring.
God, what are the gifts you’ve given me in this last season? Journal and take notes on the various gifts from God in your last season. My example was community. Let God speak to you about the various gifts he’s provided you on your journey.
God, will you highlight important moments from my last season where you showed up for me? As the Lord brings things to your mind, allow yourself to feel the emotions of that moment. Let your senses be activated and really notice God’s presence over your life in those moments of time.
God, who supported me in this past season and who are you inviting me to reach out to and say thank you? God may bring particular people to mind for you who helped you in this last season. Prayerfully ask what he’d like you to do — maybe send a nice thank you note or give a gift of gratitude.
God, what did you teach me in this last season that you’d like me to carry with me into the next one? God is always teaching and speaking. Were there specific lessons you learned? Truths you gained? Insights you reached? Bottle them up and make a note of it because God wastes nothing. Whatever tools he gave you in this last season are important for the next one.
The purpose of this exercise is to help you savor all God did in a previous season. It is a way of ending a season well so you can step into a new beginning confident in all God has for you. I hope this exercise is as life-giving for you as it has been for me.
The Poetry Nook
This week’s poem, “The Summer Day”, is written by one of my favorite poets, Mary Oliver. If you are an American or went through the American school system, you may recognize this one as it was often one memorized by secondary school students. It’s a beautiful invitation to a slowed down life. There’s probably no better poet to exemplify savoring than Mary Oliver.
Who made the world?
Who made the swan, and the black bear?
Who made the grasshopper?
This grasshopper, I mean—
the one who has flung herself out of the grass,
the one who is eating sugar out of my hand,
who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down—
who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes.
Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face.
Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away.
I don't know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down
into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,
which is what I have been doing all day.
Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?
—Mary Oliver1
There’s a Book on That
Strahan Coleman is an acclaimed musician, poet, writer, and spiritual director from Aotearoa, New Zealand. He founded Commoners Communion, a platform for exploring Christian spirituality through writing, podcasts, retreats, devotions, and prayers. His book, Beholding, is a beautiful invitation to a slowed down spirituality where you can learn to commune with God in prayer and contemplation.
As always, here is a taster:
“A strange thing happens when we decentralize asking in our prayer life. What do we do? How do we commune with God without agenda or necessity? I wonder if the answer is partly why so many of us pray like crazy in suffering, then forget about God in healing, because we don’t know what to do when the basis of our relationship is no longer desperate acceptance, healing, longing, or need.”2
Just in case you missed these recent posts:
Can We Live More Like an Ecosystem?: In a world that celebrates the individual, how can we choose to live differently? Perhaps there is wisdom in God's creation, in nature's systems, which hold the keys to a more Christlike life.
Remembering as a Spiritual Discipline: A reflection on the role of memory in our faith journey. Sometimes we have to look back in order to have faith for what is yet to come
The Illusion of Control: We like to think we have control, but really we have far less than we think. What would it look like to loosen our grip? How can prayer and exhortation give us courage to trust God to make a way?
Living a Transformed Life: The direct result of apprenticing under Jesus is the transformation of your mind and heart, but walking out your faith can be a complex experience. How can you stay aligned with God along the way?
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Thanks again for reading this week’s newsletter. Cheers to diving into the deep together!
With love,
Jamie
“Poem 133: The Summer Day.” Library of Congress. https://www.loc.gov/programs/poetry-and-literature/poet-laureate/poet-laureate-projects/poetry-180/all-poems/item/poetry-180-133/the-summer-day/
Coleman, Strahan. Beholding. David C Cook, 2023. p. 28