Take two.  What's the point in this blog?  I've been preaching for twenty-two years, so maybe it's just habit - this need to process life within a larger, deeper, more questioning context.  Each week for all these years, I've had to work to connect my story with an older story - one that connects us to each other and to the sacred, wherever that is found.  In fact, it was that work of examination that led me to leave my last position.  As I sought the vision of God for our tiny church group, and as I dug ever more deeply into the Bible for its challenge and its promise, I felt increasingly compelled by the foolishness of Jesus who truly seemed to believe that to give up everything was the simplest path to discovering the only thing of importance.  It whet my imagination and fired up my spirit.  Christians have been trying to enter the alternative reality proclaimed by Christ for thousands of years, but the world looks much the same.  Why?  Because for the most part, they try to be safe Christians which is pretty much of a oxymoron - how safe can it possibly be to follow the teachings of a man who died on a cross?  Nonetheless, his followers seem more inspired to build church buildings and endowments than they do to live the adventure he invites us to share.  I left my job because of a story in Luke about a rich ruler who asks Jesus what he needs to do to experience the kingdom of God and Jesus tells him - give away everything you own and come follow me.  The story tells us that the man went away sad because he had many possessions.  He left, disheartened, before hearing the promise: "there is no one who has left house or wife or brothers or parents or children, for the sake of the kingdom of God, who will not get back very much more in this age, and in the age to come."  By letting go of all those things that we believe give our lives meaning and security and love, we enter into God's kingdom where we discover deeper meaning, eternal security and an endless abundance of love.  For my little church group, I believed we were being called to release the nearly 2 million dollars they hold in trust, to seed ministries in the community where they felt called to be.  I believed that in emptying our bank account into service projects, we would not only better serve the neighborhood, but better serve our souls.  We would cease to depend on a bank account for our future, and be forced to rely only on God.  This sounds more sacrificial than it is for me - it is more a matter of wanting to clear the plate of leftovers so we can indulge in the promised buffet.  I was literally dying of curiosity to know how the promise of abundance would unfold if we just trusted God enough to let go of that which owned us.  The church didn't share my curiosity.  Nor, perhaps, my interpretation of Scripture.  For them it seemed that giving away their money would be giving away their identity - without it, they would cease to exist.  And there was truth to that.  Just as there is truth that death must precede resurrection.  But, what an encore!  

   So, after failing to inflame my "flock" toward joy (though I did a fabulous job of inflaming some of them in the other direction...), I couldn't stay.  I couldn't put my curiosity back in a box until we figured out some safe and reasonable form of ministry to pursue.  I couldn't un-detect my hearing of Jesus' sorrow as the rich ruler walked away, instead of trusting in the ability of God to transform loss into abundant gain.   I couldn't settle for less than a full commitment to foolishness.  

   Thus, the leap of faith.  The darkness of just a few days ago has cleared somewhat as my husband and I find ourselves back on the same page.  We've taken turns freaking out, and our spirits are better for it.  As Christmas approaches, I see the story begin again, and my curiosity lures me on.

Leaping...

I knew that someday I wanted to write about my experience of leaping in faith - to share with others the joy of faithful living, of following one's call no matter the cost.  It made sense to wait until I had landed and could share the good news of a successful leap.  My plan was to take the risk, to trust in God and to then offer my story as one of encouragement to others looking for support in making their own leaps.

But, instead, I'm launching this blog on perhaps the darkest day of my life to date.  I have taken the leap, my landing pad is nowhere in sight, my parachute won't open and it's starting to rain.  I am scared out of my mind.  To bring you quickly up to date - I resigned my position with a church group a few months ago (I won't go into the details of that decision except to say that my soul was withering away and I had played my last card - I saw no other choice but to leave in order to live my faith as I believe I am called to do.)  We live in a parsonage, so this decision meant giving up our family's only paycheck, our health insurance, and our home.  Not an easy choice, but, as I said, I felt compelled by the Spirit to shake the dust off my feet and move on. We are currently living on a loan from my retirement account which will run out in another couple of months.  The plan is to move back north to live with my mother for the time being.  

My prayer as I leapt was that God would give us the courage and strength to hang on until the next pathway opened.  That remains my prayer as the pathway remains shrouded and the pressure mounts.  We are trying to sell our worldly possessions and be out of this house by the end of January.  To prepare for the transition, our daughter has left her school to be homeschooled for the rest of this year, until we know for sure where we'll settle next.  I'm desperately seeking affordable health insurance, and trying to hold my marriage together.  This move is not at all convenient or attractive for my husband who is a musician and has some momentum going in the area where we live.  To move seven hours away to live with my mother was not part of his plan.  Not surprisingly, our relationship is feeling the strain.  And, did I mention that we're heavily in debt?

So, why in God's name would I begin a blog on taking a leap of faith from such a horribly discouraging place?  Two reasons:  1) if this "sermon" about leaping is going to be true, it just needs to be true.  Nobody gains courage by reading about easy choices with easy answers - but by witnessing hardship endured until the light returns; 2) by writing, I hope to keep some part of myself focused and attuned to the spiritual hope behind the mess that we're in.   You are my witnesses, and your presence will hold me to the path.  And when I arrive (see? my faith - though stretched - remains...), I pray that we will all have witnessed God's power and loving grace.