Restored Plans from Broken Promises

Each and every step broke my heart a little more.

I didn’t want to leave. I didn’t want to go home. I knew what was waiting for me there and most of it wasn’t something that I wanted to hurry back to. And I knew what I was leaving was what I needed. My stomach turned and the tears flowed freely down my face as I stood in line for security at the airport and they continued the entire way home.

This wasn’t even my first time leaving. I left St.Louis in August after going back to Gateway was no longer a possibility. Packing up and leaving was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. St.Louis had become my home. I had friends there. I had people who had become my family there. My entire life was centered around the fact that I was going to Gateway in the fall. I was going to build my life off of that reality. And when it didn’t happen, I fell apart.

I got so angry. If you don’t know the story of how God called me to go to Gateway, it’s really interesting and you should ask me sometime. But the Reader’s Digest version is that I gave up a killer scholarship to my first choice program at my dream school to go to Missouri. Basically, all I could see at that moment was a box full of hurt and broken promises that God had chosen to give me instead of fulfilling what he told me that one night in May.

In October, I went back again. I sat in church and told God that I wanted to be back there, but was so afraid to tell him that because every dream I seemed to give to him, he took away. His response was a quiet, “Trust me. I’ve got this.” And I believed him.

Around December, it fell apart again. The plans dissipated and a plan B came to light. Plan B then fell apart a few months later. It made me mad at God. Furious.  I had pretty much been in a constant state of running and rebellion since I had to leave. And I made the decision early last month that because everything was falling apart, I might as well go visit St.Louis. I needed my friends. Right then. So I went. I didn’t expect anything extraordinary.

It’s easy to lie to yourself and say that you have it together. That you’re okay and you’ve got it figured out. But when your best friend sits across from you at lunch one afternoon and tells you that he’s worried about how much you’ve changed, it’s hard to face that. But you can still lie. Because I did. I still said that everything was okay. That I was okay. That me and Jesus were besties. You really can’t lie to friends that know you inside and out, but I tried it anyway, and the subject was dropped.

Friday night was something I’ll never forget. Live Recording. Something that ends up being spectacular every year, both musically and spiritually. I will never forget sitting there that night, with tears running down my face as God spoke to me.

“Who are you, Becky? Seriously? What is all this? This isn’t you. Look at you a year ago. You were determined. You trusted me. You came to me sincerely, with a situation that you knew you couldn’t fix yourself. You were scared, but you knew me and sought me, and you can see today that your miracle came to pass.

Why don’t you trust me anymore, Bex? Have you forgotten who I am? Have you forgotten that I love you and I know exactly what you want and need? I know your heart, as messed up and broken as it is. I promised you five months ago that I was going to take care of this. Why don’t you trust me? ‘I know what I'm doing. I have it all planned out- plans to take care of you, not abandon you, plans to give you the future you hope for.’ Once upon a time, that was your life verse. The word that you clung to when your life didn’t make sense. I still mean it, you know. I know you’re confused and hurting. But I’m not confused. I know your life, beginning to end. This will happen for you. Stop worrying. Stop being scared. Turn your life back to me. I still want you. And you still want me.”

God kept confirming this word, over and over again until I left on Sunday evening. I walked out of the building to get in the car and as I did, I found myself quoting Jeremiah 29:11 over and over again to myself.

“For I know the plans for you, says the Lord. Plans to prosper you and not to harm you. Plans to give you a hope and a future.”

“For I know the plans for you, says the Lord. Plans to prosper you and not to harm you. Plans to give you a hope and a future.”

“For I know the plans for you, says the Lord. Plans to prosper you and not to harm you. Plans to give you a hope and a future.”

And so we’re back to the beginning, with me standing in the security line, keeping it together until my best friend walks away and then collapsing into tears. While God keeps whispering.

“For I know the plans for you, says the Lord. Plans to prosper you and not to harm you. Plans to give you a hope and a future.”

Teaching a persistent worrier to have faith is right around the same difficulty level as teaching a goldfish to tap dance. This summer, I’m going to be in St.Louis. I don’t know how it’s going to happen. But it is. There’s no way that I can do this on my own. But I serve a God that loves the impossible. The impossible is where He can do his best work and nobody else can take the credit. The impossible is where He is glorified. I have moving boxes sitting in my closet that are waiting to be filled. And they will be soon. Because when this happens, it’s going to happen faster than I can process this. God will have his way.

I don’t know how this is going to happen. But I do know one thing that surpasses all of the things that I don’t.

“For I know the plans for you, says the Lord. Plans to prosper you and not to harm you. Plans to give you a hope and a future.”