Leap of Faith

​Today, I went to a new church. I got choked up walking in, during the music, walking to my car and then again, driving home.

I felt the incredible duality of making a big change. Church was the perfect symbol.

I found church at a very low point in my life, just after divorce. All my ancient pain had bubbled up to the surface, after being buried for decades. My false beliefs were staring me down, asking, "Now what, smart guy?"

Little did I know what was coming. Acceptance. Belonging. Worth. Value. Purpose. Unconditional love. Freedom from shame and comparison. I was shocked, because that's not what I thought I'd find at church.

But condemnation was nowhere to be found.

Fifteen years later, here I was without my church home. I often referred to it as a hospital for the broken-hearted. What if my healing was dependent on that place?

I felt grief and loss for not being able to drive up Cooper Road, park in my normal spot, sit in my usual seat and connect with people I know. It was weird. It was also exciting.

It felt like an adventure within an adventure.

As I allowed my heart to be with the grief and excitement all at once, I realized I'd been feeling this duality for some time now. So sad to leave Columbus, while simultaneously being thrilled about moving to Phoenix. Broken-hearted to not live around the corner from my family anymore, while imagining the new relationships I'd have in my new state. Saying goodbye to my home of fifteen years, while saying hello to this cozy little fortress in the sun.

It's both. All at once.

And that feels sacred. Being deep in gratitude for what was, while looking ahead to what I'm being called to next. It's a leap of faith. Leaving something wonderful and known, for something wonderful and unknown. When people ask me what my plan is, I say, "The Holy Spirit will tell me when I get there."

I'm done controlling it. Not my way, Your way. Not my will, Your will. I had six months of eat/pray/love and I learned to let go. I mean really let go and TRUST that there is something wiser and more powerful within me, leading me. I call it God. God was with me today in my grief, and also in my excitement.

God is my leap of faith. Trusting instead of controlling is my leap of faith. Believing that my relationships are so solid that no distance could ever shake them. Believing that I can experience healing and the presence of God in any church, on a mountain trail, on the phone with my niece, walking my hooligans.

It's like Dorothy had to learn, she had the power in her all along. She didn't have to go looking for it. She WAS it. So she clicked her heels three times, and was home.