Long Road (To Nowhere)

You know what I find so surprising about this whole process? My reaction to things that I didn’t think would affect me.

I’ve been walking around, pricing all of our belongings. Well, not all of them, since we’re taking some things. Still, most everything is being sold.

We’ve tried to make it sound fun. “Let’s set the tent up in our master bedroom once our bed is sold!” “We can eat on the floor for EVERY meal!” “Who needs couches anyways!”

But the truth of the matter is, this is hard.

It’s hard to think about starting over, in a place that’s foreign and so far from all that we’ve ever known. And I’ll be the first to admit that I can get lost in my feelings of fear. I don’t know if I’m strong enough for this move. Those thoughts of doubt start to creep in, clouding my vision. And then Jesus gently tilts my face up to Him, and reminds me of what Luke 9:58 says, “Foxes have holes, and birds of the air have nests, but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head.”

Nowhere? What would that feel like? Not to have anywhere that I can call home?

A very dear friend shared a song with me when we first started this journey. I liked it immediately, although I thought singing the word “murder” was a little strange. Turns out, there is something in me that is dying. Something that I didn’t know needed to die.

How weird is that? Shouldn’t I have known that there was something big, something nasty, that needed to be removed from it’s home in my heart? I didn’t. I didn’t know that I enjoyed my house more than what God had planned for me. I didn’t know that I was holding on to all of this stuff to remind me of memories, to bring me a sense of comfort, to help me feel safe.

And yet, here I am. Exhausted from the physical toll that moving requires, but also from the emotional toll this journey has requested from me.

Jesus has been so gentle with me, but at some point He has to cut that branch off that’s impeding the growth of the healthy branches, the ones that will bear fruit.

It’s never easy to let go of our comforts, no matter what they may be. Everyone is different and finds comfort in different things. Mine just so happens to be something I can’t take to Kenya. And as hard as it is, I’m starting to be ok with it. Yes, I’ll still cry many more tears, and I’m going to be sad when we sell things that have meant something to me. But as I’ve said before, there are a lot of little kiddos who keep us going.

And if my God can leave Heaven to come down here, where He has nowhere to lay His head, then I can let go of some comforts to heed His calling on my life. All the way to Africa.



Long Road (To Nowhere)
(Eric Peters, Brent Milligan)

there’s a feeling that I get you’re not done with me yet
I go to bed at night feeling lost
it’s dangerous, I know, I could go out on my own
run away and never come back

faith feels more like murder
these little deaths keep hurting

it’s a long road to nowhere
there’s a good chance I’ll get there
but as long as you’re beside me
home is where I’ll be

there’s a place inside of me where I’ve never quite believed
that change was something good and always welcome
here it is I’m torn, I’m an ancient being born
and a hole inside my heart that’s always bare

faith feels just like murder
these little deaths keep hurting

it’s a long road to nowhere
there’s a good chance I’ll get there
but as long as you’re beside me
home is where I’ll be

what about tomorrow?
here and gone like yesterday
I am no one real to fake it
in daily dying, I am scarce and afraid

Categories: Uncategorized | 4 Comments

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4 thoughts on “Long Road (To Nowhere)

  1. J'Layne

    This is excellent. Love your heart. Praying for you.

  2. This was wonderful to read, you guys. Julie Mendonsa pointed me here. All the best.

    • Thanks Eric! Your music has been so encouraging to us. We have Long Road on repeat in the car, and our 3 year old now calls it “Mommy’s song.” Sung softly, it’s a nice bedtime lullaby, too! Thank you for sharing your heart through your music.
      -The Kimball Fam

  3. Um…..wow. After this entry, I don’t think you can claim you are not a writer friend. These words convey the power and brilliance of what God is doing with you. Thanks for sharing with such honesty.

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