There’s a fairy tale I often think about that involves a farmer with lots of children. He complains about how little space he has and dreams of the day he can buy a big farmhouse to fit everyone. A wise old woman tells him how he can fix his problem–bring all the chickens inside the house, too. He does so, then goes back to the old woman complaining about how there’s even less space. She instructs him to bring all the goats in, then all the cows. Finally, the man goes to the old woman, angry that she’s only made his problem worse. She then instructs him to take all the animals back to the barn and clean up the house. When he does so, he’s amazed by how much space he had all along!
When we’re in the daily grind, it can sometimes feel like our circumstances are less than satisfactory. We find ourselves pining after the elusive future, saying “if only I could get THERE…” But then, things can change, causing us to reevaluate our priorities. It’s funny how after a time of upheaval, we spend so much effort just to return to the normal we were so unhappy with before. Instead of seeking the future in those moments, we look backwards to repair the status quo.
It can feel good in the days following a season of busyness to fall into our regular routine again. We certainly appreciate our mundane lives more, just like the farmer in the fairy tale. But is it always a good thing to go back? Maybe the disruption isn’t random and serves a greater purpose than we think.
And what about permanent upheavals? We are creatures of habit, and most people tend to resist change. So what happens when our lives are altered beyond recognition?
I can think of many times my life has been disrupted only to be made better for it. Moving across the country, getting married, having a baby, a global pandemic–some of these examples were more welcome than others, but I can see now just how much they truly changed me.
I was in middle school when my family moved from Michigan to Arizona. When I stepped out of the moving truck in the middle of June and felt the blast of wind that was like opening an oven door, I thought I would hate the desert as long as I lived there. In fact, for many years, I was determined to hate the change. I sought comfort in the familiar–the library (way smaller than the one back home), school (way behind where I was back home), friends (way less fun than the ones back home). If I could only last through high school, I would be gone sooner than you could say “graduation.” Then I could return to the life I’d left behind.
But the funny thing about life is that the world changes whether we’re around or not. And it only took a visit “back home” to realize that home didn’t feel, well, much like home anymore.
Thankfully, I soon realized why I was so unhappy where God had placed me: I was waiting to return to a normal that no longer existed.
Honestly, I could fill an entire book of times when God disrupted my status quo. But He does seem to be in the business of doing that.
After all, Jesus Christ changed the entire history of the world in one disruption.
I wonder how many of Jesus’ disciples were waiting to “return to normal” after all the excitement had passed. Maybe the reality of their new lives hadn’t sunk in yet. Was it the cross when they felt it? Or the days afterwards, when all hope seemed lost? Or what about the days of Pentecost, when miracles continued to abound? Or perhaps when they faced a martyr’s death and realized they had no hope of turning back.
At some point, they had to accept that their lives would never be the same.
Jesus has a way of changing us. He takes our lives and shakes them from their normal. He disrupts the status quo and leaves us headed in new directions.
The question is, when he knocks on your door, will you be ready to embrace a new normal, or will you still be turning back to an old way of life?