In the last two weeks I traveled my way through 7 states, 5 beds, 4 time zones, 4 cars, and 1 airplane. Oddly enough, my travels are only beginning.
New Mexico trickled out a goodbye rain, Arizona was smoldering, San Diego’s temperate rays remained constant, Chicago was heavy with damp air, Michigan emptied the dampness into a summer storm, and now Ohio’s warmth escalates until an approaching precipitation.
The nomad life is invigorating for some people, the thrill of adventure beckons them into wandering from place to place, with as little luggage as possible, and savoring every moment of unplanned happenstance. I wish I was one of those people. Although I love traveling and seeing different parts of the world, I have typically been a creature of consistency. I prefer a morning routine to a morning flight, a steady work schedule to a steady travel schedule, and the same bed every night to a new one every week.
However for many of my friends, we spent the last four years of college consistently moving at least twice a year. Home for the summer, back to school in the fall, back for winter break, back in the spring, until the cycle begins again. Each year was a new dorm room, or a new apartment, with new roommates and new classes. Some of us even threw in a study abroad or a summer job away from home. So my illusion of consistency was temporal at best.
The best consolation I found during these times was the idea of the Israelites wandering in the desert. Psalm 90 is labeled as “A prayer of Moses, man of God.” It begins by saying –
“Lord you have been our dwelling placethroughout all the generations,before the mountains were bornor you brought forth the earth and the world,from everlasting to everlasting you are God.”
From here Moses goes on asking God to give them rest from their years of wandering in the desert. For those of us who are familiar with this story, we know that Moses was the one who led the Israelites out of Egypt — but sadly he never got to see them make it all the way to the promised land.
I can only imagine how hard this must have been for him. The Bible describes him as a “man of God,” and he certainly was one of the greatest leaders for the Israelites, yet he had to spend years traveling without any sort of home and without any clear end in sight. So it makes sense that he begins this prayer by calling on God as his dwelling place, because the only consistent part of their travels through the desert was that God always went with them in a cloud of smoke–when the cloud lifted from the tent the Israelites set out to move again, and wherever the cloud settled is where they camped.
What does it mean to dwell in God though?
In Deuteronomy 8, Moses reminds his people about the purpose of their wandering by saying to them:
“Remember how the Lord your God led you all the way in the desert these forty years, to humble you and to test you in order to know what was in your heart, whether or not you would keep his commands. He humbled you, causing you to hunger and then feeding you with manna, which neither you nor your fathers had known, to teach you that man does not live on bread alone but on every word that comes from the mouth of the Lord.”
Here we can see that Moses recognized the importance of following God, because it is out of God’s great love that he leads us through the desert places to humble us and remind us to rely on him. For Moses and the Israelites, dwelling in God meant relying on Him completely–trusting that He had their best interest at heart and that He would provide the food they needed to make it on the journey.
Whether you are without a job, continuing school, preparing to move, or have been settled for many years and still feel restless at heart–dwelling in God enables you to have a consistency that is inaccessible in our world of rapid change. We are all nomads in one way or another. It is evident in those moments of itchiness, the prickle of daydreams, fidgeting hands and the unease deep within that leaves us questioning even the simplest things.
The challenging part of dwelling with God, at least for me, is accepting that the journey might look different than what I plan or expect. Moses probably didn’t expect that those years of wandering in the desert would include manna from heaven, or water coming out of a rock, or an abundance of quail driven in from the sea. He certainly questioned God plenty of times – asking why they had to suffer in certain ways, or why he had to bear many heavy burdens.
Change is inevitable no matter where you are at. The Israelites may have wandered for 40 years in the desert, but they were never in same place physically or spiritually. They grew along the way, made mistakes, and eventually they did make it to the promised land.
The good news is that we can find certainty and a sense of home in God.
Isaiah 42 says:
“I will lead the blind by ways they have not known,along unfamiliar paths I will guide them;I will turn the darkness into light before themand make the rough places smooth.These are the things I will do;I will not forsake them.”
Dwelling with God doesn’t mean knowing the plan. Even if we learn to treat God as our home, our center of security, we have to know that He is still the one in control. I know that I have encountered a lot of frustrating uncertainty along my journeys, and I am not ashamed to admit that I have questioned God at every odd turn or roadblock along the way. But being at home with God means embracing the fact that things aren’t going to look exactly like we expect or plan for.
The best we can do is rely on Him, dwelling in the certainty of trusting that he will provide for us, that he will outlast even the tallest mountains, and that he will guide us on unfamiliar paths, making the rough places smooth, from everlasting to everlasting without ever forsaking us.
On Sunday I leave for a month long trip to Norway and Sweden. The simple explanation of what I’m doing there is that I received the Humanities Grant from the Swedish Council of America and I will be attending a conference before visiting two universities in Sweden. The complicated part is that it involves six different plane flights, at least five bus rides, some train travel, reservations for places to stay in four different cities, and some time staying with family friends who live in Norway. I am hoping to post updates about all these adventures on the blog here, but I can’t make any promises with a schedule that packed.
I also previously mentioned on the blog my grand plans to do a series of posts on all the books I’ve been reading this year, but because of my travel plans I’ve decided to postpone it for when I return. In the meantime I am attempting to dwell in God’s consistency rather than my own, knowing that he will provide along the way.
Are there times when you’ve felt lost or nomadic?
How did you deal with it?