The Boundary Lines

This weekend, between vomit and pink eye, Jamie and I watched the documentary film 112 Weddings.

In the movie, a wedding videographer visited eight of the couples whose weddings he had filmed years before; the longest marriage being 19 years.

Some had divorced; some were finding marriage convenient for tax and legal purposes. All noted the central theme of children being a driving factor to "make the relationship work."

But more than anything, all lacked deep abiding vision within their union.

Marriage was simply another option, the next step in life.

Void of calling, purpose or ministry. 

My heart ached for the families in limbo. Jamie and I have never hidden our marriage struggles. In fact, we share them openly for they have been and are a penetrating catalyst in Christ's pursuit of us.

In light of that, the last two weeks have been messy.

So much so we've found ourselves wondering if somehow we misheard God on this route to our ministry, to the spaces we felt we heard Him whispering to our souls to follow in faith.

I've thrown pillows against the wall and wailed, How could God be calling anyone to a lifetime of this?

As I often do, I turned on Jamie and screamed that foster care was his idea.

We cried and prayed, and as we always do, we ended in the same place, surrender from our knees.

I have to allow myself to go to that place every so often. To be real with the cost.

I don't think that's a sin. I think it's an acknowledgement of our call.

A re-commitment. A weighing of the balance.

When I stood beside my hot man on that day 13 years ago, this life was not what I pictured.

Instead I envisioned years down the road us dabbling in giving, our children going to a foundational Christian private school; maybe I would lead a Bible study and write on the side.

All in the name of Jesus.

Hear me when I say those are good things.

But when I saw those things as my safety net for the mark of Christ, I made them falsely ultimate.

These days I find myself rocking children who are knocking their heads against a wall. I'm counting pennies to make the budget work for children who come to us with nothing. I'm homeschooling our sons because our family life has them immersed in the world.

But it's our life. It's our ministry. It's our calling, and the story of redemption He has authored through us.

In college, my sweet friend Anna jotted a verse to me on a note and dropped it by my door in the dorm:

LORD, you alone are my portion and my cup. You have made my lot secure. 

The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places. Surely, I have a delightful inheritance. 

~ Psalms 16 : 5-6

Surrendering our vision, our dreams, for the path of life He lays out for us means our trading a life of temporary happiness for an eternity of inheritance.

It casts off the mediocre, the status quo, the stale bread, allowing us instead to feast on the Bread of Life.

My moments and days aren't anything I dreamed of when I stood in that white gown.

They're richly more.

We've allowed the Father to lead us to a place of walking on water, sink or swim, casting our nets in faith in order to live for the next moment.

That's being alive. 

I find myself desperately clinging to the cross morning after morning, and rejoicing in the victory of His daily mercies night after night.

Photo Source: Jeweledsteel.com

It's down right nasty sometimes.

But Friends, the Cross wasn't clean and tidy. It was splintered, bloody and smelly.

Yet, it birthed our eternal hope.

Because Jesus is Worthy ~