Wednesday, November 16, 2011

Southern Comfort

Well I just need a place to lay my head
Forget the chain that hangs around my neck
These guns are not as heavy as the hearts they defend
I can't wait to get back home where I can find some rest

When I lay down my guns and lift my hands
Surrender to Love and live again
May this desert reach its end where my new life begins
When I lay down my guns and lift my hands

And I have seen the devil in this place
And I lost myself when my friends found the grave
When you're this far from Heaven
It's hard to keep the faith
I'm barely holding on
I can't wait to

Lay down my guns and lift my hands
Surrender to Love and live again
May this desert reach its end where my new life begins
When I lay down my guns and lift my hands

And I'm laying down these burdens
Taking off the weights
And I can't count the miles that I've walked to find my way
To lay down these guns
How I need to lay down these guns
Lay down my guns and lift my hands
Surrender to Love and live again
May this desert reach its end where my new life begins
And I'll abandon my defenses and live to love again
When I lay down my guns and lift my hands

-Sanctus Real

It’s been said many times we are in a war. And in a war, there are often casualties. The ministry is the front lines of that war and our family has been on the front lines for 16 years. The past 3 or 4 we have taken particularly heavy fire. The losses and hits have been heavy. Nathan and I are wounded and bleeding and lying far apart on this battlefield. Our children are in between. Laura, who is old enough to understand the issues at stake in this war, is also bleeding profusely, dazed and confused. Nate and Daniel are stumbling around somewhere in between, ears ringing from the gunfire, unsure why the world around them has been shaken so severely.

The church was never intended to be this way. The church should build families up and bring them together and more than anything should support those who serve them and should build their faith. Unfortunately, our family is battered and bruised and my faith for sure is severely shaken.

Sometimes even the bravest, strongest, generals know that retreat is the wisest move. And so, our family is laying down our guns and retreating. We are gathering up our wounded, circling the wagons and retreating.

When we moved to Duluth nine years ago, we were in a similar, though not quite so severe situation. We hoped Fond du Lac would be a refuge for us. In a magazine from VisitDuluth.com I found, and cut out, this little advertisement for Duluth. It’s been on my fridge for 9 years. It says this:

Maybe it’s time to recapture some of that youthful exuberance. Time to get out of Dodge, so to speak. Time to take the family away and bring them back together. Who knows? You could end up just as excited as you used to be.

And so that’s exactly what we are doing. We quit our jobs. We are moving South, far, far away to Atlanta, GA. We’re getting the heck outta Dodge. Nathan and I are leaving the ministry, the battle, the fishbowl. We’re going to try being “average joes” for awhile. Nope, we don’t know what we’re gonna do. And until 5 p.m. today we weren’t even sure exactly where we were gonna live. At least that is now taken care of.

http://www.trulia.com/property/3033924198-522-River-Pl-Woodstock-GA-30188

I’m being perfectly open and honest here. The last few years have been hell for our family, our kids, our marriage. We are going to go try to put it all back together somehow. A fresh start. A new beginning. We may have lost a battle, but we haven’t lost the war.

Who knows? We could end up just as excited as we used to be.

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