Faith is one of those things you don’t realize you lack until you’re forced to have it.
Last year, we had a house with a yard in suburbia, two vehicles (three if you count Tim’s dirt bike), a modest but comfortable income, and medical and dental insurance. We shopped at Target and Trader Joe’s.
I even had my own craft closet (I seriously miss that):
Now? We’re traveling in under 400squarefeet – without a dishwasher, an icemaker, a garbage disposal, a steady income, or insurance. We have to taken turns in between showers to “wait for hot water.” We bump into each other when we cook dinner. If people come over, we don’t have a leather couch to offer them. We shop at Wally’s.
It’s hard to describe why we chose this.
By most accounts, it’s crazy. Who gives up everything to learn how to give? It doesn’t make sense (even to us sometimes).
I can’t tell you how many times we’ve been brought to our knees. So often, we pray with two words: “Help, Lord.”
In a society that tells us to save up storehouses, we’re giving up ours. We’re letting go.
I don’t know what’s next for us after this year, but I know now that I’m ready to jump. Faith is a lesson I’m learning.
(I just wish it wasn’t so hard to learn it).