The last few months have been a trip.

Actually there’ve been multiple trips, as some of you may be aware. And in the midst of the journey, lots of fine-tuning from the Father’s heart as I shift and move to walk with Him in this season. Lots of letting go and saying “no” in order to say “yes” to the ways He leads. That feels very fluffy to write.  Let’s just say it’s been a trip.

Part of the journey this last year has included getting to speak to various groups, which is a strange mix of terror and exhilaration. I love it, actually. But the experience has been, shall we say, “fraught” with teachable moments.

Like one time, for instance, I almost melted a gathering of humans by having us sit around a campfire in the middle of the summer during a Restlands Retreat.

Yeah.

I figured we were up North, so no biggie.  But summer came out to play that day.

Note to self: scratch campfires for summer speaking engagements

Another time I had to stop mid-speak so that the group of us could quickly get buckets of water to try and stop an overreaching campfire from burning down Colorado.

Note to self: But for real about the summer campfires, Sara

You could say my summer was on fire.

I was burnin’ it up.

Keepin’ it lit.

Sorry, I’ll stop.

For me, the fact that every step of the journey was accompanied by the unexpected actually proved a welcome lesson on loosening up and letting go. It didn’t have to be perfect for God to be powerful. I can sometimes get stuck in my head and overanalyze every. little. thing.  So, to be in moments where you have to roll with it is probably a really good thing for me.

The groups I’ve spoken to vary in size, but each has been very special to me. There was one particular night, however, that moved my heart in a unique way:

That was the night only one person came to hear me speak.

I sat by the campfire (thankfully, it was perfect weather for this one) with my notes in hand wondering, should I even share? Maybe my friends and I and the one visitor can just hang out by the fire; that would still be fun. Does it really matter if I share my little Restlands journey?  Just for this one person?

On my flight to this particular engagement I was reading The Rest of God by Mark Buchanan. In it he shares how what Jesus accomplished in his life is beyond measure. But the journey of fulfilling his purpose boiled down to two pretty simple components: He wandered and he got interrupted.

There’s something about stopping for the one in front of you that somehow squeezes the Kingdom out of the moment. It did with Jesus.  So maybe if I was willing to stop, and listen, and watch, I could see the Kingdom leak out of my moments too.

Considering this, my heart confirmed we were heading into the Restlands. As I began to share, something inside of me radiated with increasing awe. I was feeling love that God had for my friend by the fire.  A love that would pluck some rando girl from Texas, and drop kick her to Minnesota to sit with him for a night and tell him her little hiking allegory.  It’s a moment that spoke to me of God’s extravagance, that he would move mountains and people from one side of the planet to the other for one night – just to tell them they were loved.

As we finished the evening, I watched the tears stream down his cheeks as he listened to God.

God does very big things in seemingly small moments – and with seemingly small crowds. 

I felt honored that night.

Supremely, unapologetically honored, like I had been given exclusive tickets to mingle with royalty or something. I was one of the few selected to sit with this one and watch God move.  What a gift that God would interrupt my wandering, direct my steps, and let me have a front row seat to watch him love on the one by the fire.

Here’s to the continued journey of going with the flow, and letting more and more moments be interrupted by his love.