Doing a New Thing

It is officially my last Tuesday in the office, and I am … speechless. Where did the last six weeks go?

Despite the fact that there are only three days left in this work week, it feels as though there is two weeks worth of work to be done. I will be putting the finishing touches on the proposal today and will be presenting it to the marketing “big-wigs” on Thursday.

The presentation is weighing heavily on my mind for a number of different reasons. For starters, it will be the first, and potentially only, chance that I have in front of such an influential audience here at Compassion.

Secondly, I simply want to do well. This project is close to my heart and I want to do it justice. I don’t just want to sell it. I want to inspire my audience to feel as passionately about it as I do and see the vision that I have for it. I don’t want them to merely associate this proposal with “the intern’s project,” but instead I want them to think that “this is where Compassion could go; this is what Compassion should do.”

While there are other matters that seem to float aimlessly around in my thoughts, the most important and imperative at the moment is the question of my immediate future. I have applied for several positions here at Compassion, but as of today, have yet to hear back. And waiting patiently is not my forte.

As is usually the case, the Lord revealed a scripture to me last week that has brought some much needed comfort and strength. In Isaiah 43:18-19 it says “Forget the former things, do not dwell on the past. See, I am doing a new thing! … I am making a way in the desert and streams in the wasteland” (NIV).

I don’t think we give God enough credit for being creative in terms of humor. Let me explain.

A few weeks ago, while driving towards Denver, I made the comment to my friends that the terrain of Colorado was surprising in that it was much dryer and less lush than I envisioned it to be.

“That’s because this is desert land,” Molly said.

“But there are mountains,” I replied.

She half laughed. “There can still be mountains in desert lands,” she informed me kindly.

Not to be completely outsmarted, I Googled “Colorado topography” later that evening. Sure enough, the entire eastern portion of the state lies within the borders of the “great plains,” a large, high-plains region known for its dry, arid climate and lack-luster vegetation.

So what does Colorado topography have to do with my future?

In case you haven’t seen the weather channel, it has been raining here for the past week straight. This desert land has been recently refreshed. Standing water can been seen in the deep ravines by the highways, an uncommon occurrence here, especially during this time of year.

In the same way that the Lord rains down life and renewal to the earth in its time of need, so too does He promise to reign down the blessing of His perfect provision in our time of need as well.

I don’t know what door He will open in the coming weeks. I don’t know where He will lead me to work or what He will lead me to do. But I do know that in the midst of my Moses-like desert experience, He will bring forth water from the rocks and manna from the heaven.

In church this past Sunday, my pastor finished a sermons series on the twenty-third chapter of Psalms. In the last verse, David says that “surely goodness and mercy will follow me all the days of my life” (ESV).

The terms “goodness” and “mercy” will all mean different things to different people based upon their circumstances and what the Lord wants to show them individually. However, the universal message is this: surely they will come to all of us. Surely, Will, and All. Three big words. One big promise.

For those who have journeyed with me, thank you. I will continue to keep you posted on how things are going. Your company, comments, and words of encouragement have brought peace, joy, and hope that I can not begin to describe. My hope is that you continue to walk with Him, seek Him, and know Him more everyday. And if you find yourself in the desert one day, I pray that He would grant you the strength of faith to wait patiently for the rain.