Restart

 So, hey. It’s been a while. 

As some of you know, I used to have a blog -- kind of a public journal, I guess. It was a good activity for me; it forced me to pay attention to life and think somewhat deeply about things so I would have something at least a bit interesting to write about. And I was always amazed that people cared what I wrote and liked reading it.

But I stopped writing, for a variety of reasons. When I went back to work, my “free” time got scarcer. And then the 2016 election happened, and I just got discouraged about all public discourse, I think. Too much anger and rancor . . . too little listening or grace. I didn’t feel up to making myself vulnerable in the middle of all that, so I just shut up for a while.

In the meantime, my life has changed pretty dramatically. For one thing, I’m single again.

Many of you reading this are friends and are probably floored at that announcement. I’m sorry if you’re sad or disappointed. I don’t intend to share details in this forum, but please understand that I took a long time getting here and God was in the middle of it all (even when I wasn’t sure that He was). I’m in a good place and moving forward.

Which brings me to the name of this new blog.

I decided a few months ago that I needed to start writing again (partly at the urging of a friend). I’ve been debating whether to just continue my old blog or start afresh, and I realized that, weirdly enough, my biggest obstacle to a new blog was what to name it. I hate coming up with “titles”. Ugh. I may be moderately articulate, but SUCCINCT, I am not. I really have to work at that. I like words. And to name the whole blog is a big deal – I mean, it seems like it should be something pretty profound. Something that gives you an idea of what you’ll find here, what I’m going to write about. And that’s a challenge when I have no stinkin’ clue what I’m going to end up writing about.

But an image has been lingering in my consciousness for a few weeks now. My Sunday School class was studying Mark 6, the story when Jesus walks on the water -- a story I’ve read or heard or studied maybe 4,398 times, I would estimate. But our teacher pointed out something that was new to her, and it was new to me, too.

When Jesus sends the disciples out on the boat, he tells them to go ahead of him to Bethsaida. (Did they inquire how he planned to get there later when they were taking the boat now? I’ve always wondered . . . but I digress . . .) Did you catch that? Specific instructions: go to Bethsaida. I’ll meet you there.

But then this monster storm happens, and Jesus shows up walking on the waves and shuts the madness down, and then . . . they land in Gennesaret. And get out of the boat. And move on from there -- from Gennesaret, not from Bethsaida.

Now, it’s not like Jesus couldn’t get that boat to Bethsaida if he wanted to. That was kind of the point of this miraculous demonstration, yes? I’m in control of everything. But apparently, after this storm and the experience the disciples had with him there, Gennesaret was the new destination. “As soon as they got out of the boat, people recognized Jesus,” it says. They brought sick people to be healed. There was work for him and the disciples there. Jesus changed direction. 

Well. Don’t that just sum up the last fifteen or so years of my life. 

So, now I’m living in Gennesaret, looking for the work God has for me here. And I'm grateful when I recognize that Jesus got out of the boat with me.

Happy to have you join me here as I ramble occasionally about my new stomping grounds.