“For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven.” —Ecclesiastes 3:1
“Just because you’ve got the emotional range of a teaspoon doesn’t mean we all have.” —Hermione Granger, in a remark to her friend Ron Weasley in the fifth Harry Potter book.
This summer our family has been in transition from one ministry area overseas to a new ministry area in our passport country. At times, it has felt like many Ecclesiastical seasons all rolled up into one long one. We’ve keenly felt the death of dreams and the birth of new ones; the time of breaking down and of building up; the weeping and laughing, mourning and dancing; the seeking and losing, the keeping and casting away. How could all of these realities be true in the same series of three months?
There is something profoundly unique about the cross-cultural worker’s experience with transition. What is it about moving countries and continents that feels intensely different than moving states or provinces?
I’m beginning to process some answers to these questions bubbling up, but all of it will take time. In the meantime, however, I have sought God and asked Him, what does it look like to be faithful in the midst of this transition? I have pleaded with Him, could this be good even in the hard? Can you truly keep me in perfect peace while my world is swirling, while the literal ground under my feet keeps shifting? And of course, how do I help my young daughters as they experience the same kind of shifting and swirling?
Like us, you may find yourself in some season of transition. A work transition, a location, other circumstances, a family change. A few truths have grounded us in this season, and hopefully they are an encouragement to you as well:
+ Christ is our firm foundation. Though it feels like the ground is shifting, though the plane lifted us literally from our roots and dropped us in another continent 14,000 kilometers away, we affirm with Paul that Jesus is our foundation (Eph. 2:20; 1 Cor. 3:11). He is the sure foundation of our times (Isa. 33:6) and the rock on which our home is built (Matt. 7:24-27). While the winds of transition rage around us, we hold fast to Jesus, rooted in Him and held by Him. This reality helps us to make space for the range of emotions and experiences that inevitably come.
+ There is space for it all. Fortunately, none of us need to stay in the “emotional teaspoon” range. In other words, it is completely okay for one of us to feel deeply sad and intensely happy, all in the same day. We can be homesick while grateful for our new home in the same breath. We miss our old communities and friends, and we enjoy our new community and making new friends. Maybe this seems obvious for some of us, but for others, we need the permission to hold space for the range of emotions, guilt-free. And the beauty is that Jesus meets us wherever we are, each day.
Our new church gifted us with t-shirts depicting our new state, with the word “home” written across it – given with sensitivity and a prayer that we would, in time, feel at home in this new place. Several of us put them on as soon as we got home, though one of my daughters hesitated. “But it’s not home, and I’m not sure I want it to be home; South Africa is our home,” she said. I empathized, and agreed, and asked her to think about if there could ever be space in her heart for another, newer home. A few hours later, she came up with her shirt on, and my watery smile met her eyes. It’s okay, there is space for all of this.
+ This is a process. The reality here is that this transition had a beginning, a chaotic middle, and will eventually have something of an end. At several points, we have identified where our family fits on the transition bridge; tools like this are helpful in many ways, one of which is to remind us that this is a process. We will not be stuck in this murky middle ground forever. Someday we again will feel settled, known, at home, like we belong.
Two days ago, I unpacked my duffel completely for the first time since June (three months, in other words), into a new dresser, in a new closet. As I placed my emptied duffel high on a shelf, I paused for a moment of gratitude, for getting to this part of the process. There is still a long way to go, I know, but here we are, one step closer to settled.
Seasons of transition can feel all-consuming, but gratefully, they are just that: seasons. Just a few verses later in Ecclesiastes 3, we read how God “has made everything beautiful in its time” (verse 11). Is it possible that this chaotic, paradoxical season could be beautiful? Yes Lord, may it be so!
