Skip to main content

Over the Cliff

In the middle of Prince Caspian, there's a moment.

Lucy has seen Aslan, but no one else has, and Aslan's told her she has to follow, whether anyone else does or not. Fortunately, they all agree to go with her. As the set off, she's the only one who can see Him, and she's leading everyone else. 

"He led them to the right of the dancing trees -- whether they were still dancing nobody knew, for Lucy had her eyes on the Lion and the rest had their eyes on Lucy -- and nearer the edge of the gorge...for a long way Aslan went along the top of the precipices. Then they came to a place where some little trees grew right on the edge. He turned and disappeared among them. Lucy held her breath, for it looked as if he had plunged over the cliff..."

Recently, I feel as if I've been following Jesus and He's disappeared, plunged right over the cliff.

Last fall, I began thinking about words for 2017. I love the idea of claiming words for certain seasons of life. I felt strongly that I was entering a year that would bring change. I couldn't explain it, but I remember telling a friend that I just knew something would be different. I didn't know what it was: a new job, location, friends, even marriage. All were on the table, because the only thing I was sure of was that change was coming.

There were three words that settled on my heart: Hope, New, and Ask. I felt such hope and expectation over this new season I sensed coming. Sometimes when I sense a change on the horizon, I approach it with anxiety and dread, but that wasn't the case here. I was hopeful and excited over whatever it was, because I knew it would be God-given and God-planned and just so good. 


All year long I've wrestled and prayed. I've been doing my best to keep my eyes on Him, the way Lucy's were trained on Aslan. And I have felt Him pushing and leading me out, over the edge of that cliff. Out of the security I know and I'm comfortable with into a different kind of security -- one that belongs in His hands, despite the fact it is unknown and different and (slightly) mysterious. 

Next year, I will not be teaching.

I don't know what's next. But I'm trying to live the rest of that Narnia passage: 

"Lucy held her breath, for it looked as if he had plunged right over the cliff; but she was too busy keeping him in sight to stop and think about this. She quickened her pace and was soon among the trees herself. Looking down, she could see a steep and narrow path going slantwise down into the gorge between rocks, and Aslan descending it. He turned and looked at her with his happy eyes. Lucy clapped her hands and began to scramble down after him."

I can't say I've been unable to stop and think about the cliff I've just walked over, or the fact that I cannot see where He is leading. But I'm trying to run after Him, to "quicken my pace" and see Him ahead of me on that narrow path. I want to look ahead and see His happy eyes looking back at me, beckoning me to keep coming. 

I've been here before, wrestling with this kind of decision, though never with the amount of financial responsibility I now have. I've picked up and moved more times than I ever dreamed I would, followed Him from city to city, job to job. A crooked path made straight by Him. His straight, not mine.

I walk with some uncertainty into the future (don't we all??). But I've found that there is remarkable beauty in the uncertainty, something mysterious God does in the midst of the unknown, while walking this path He's leading you down. So much of God that I hold most dear I've learned in the middle of the unknown path, in the plunge over the cliff. 

So I'm here again, praying for what's next. 
For peace and wisdom and confidence.
For faith and courage to keep walking over that cliff where I will finally see Him walking ahead of me again. 
For provision and grace and immeasurably more. 
For sight.

Let me encourage you, friends. If you're in this same place as me, know that He's got this. I'll have to remind myself of this over and over again, but it's truth. And if you feel God calling you into something new and unknown, have courage, have faith, and do your best to say YES. Because my life looks nothing like I thought, but it has been amazing and worth every second. 

I don't know what's next. 
But I'm trusting and having faith that it will be free, abundant, full, alive. But mostly I'm praying that it will be full of Him, for light, for love, for my city, for the world. 

I hope you are too -- and I'm praying we'll all say yes to Him, every time, no matter what. That we'll be too busy keeping our eyes on Him to think about that cliff we're climbing over. Because it matters. More than we know. 

**Also, I'm obviously in the market for suggestions for what's next. If you know of any opportunities, please let me know!


Becky Weber said…
Thanks for sharing. Hard but thrilling at the same time to follow where He leads.
Melissa Schlies said…
ahh...I too have been in the "what is next place" and though I don't know that I have any suggestions, I can affirm your decision to keep trusting Him, knowing that whatever is next, He has it. This was beautiful and encouraging.
brooke said…
Thanks for the encouragement, ladies! :)

Popular posts from this blog


In August (!) I wrote a post on full lives and trying to do the next right thing.

Well, here it is. 

I've started a non-profit, eventually to be named LoveWell.*

Just out of college, God started calling me to community ministry, a "ministry" I now know is called neighboring: being intentional with your neighbors in the places God puts you. I spent the next several years learning what it means to be a neighbor, how to really love and serve, and growing in faith. God spent a lot of time teaching me about true hospitality and the ministry of seeing -- especially seeing those the world too often overlooks. 

Three years ago, I started working in a lower socio-economic neighborhood in Marietta, whose residents are mostly immigrants, running a summer day camp for kids through a local church. We called it "Kids' Club" and spent the summer playing games, coloring, and learning about Jesus. I fell in love, and began looking for a place to live in their neighborhood. 


Two Years Later

Monday, Facebook Memories showed me this picture. It's from March 19, 2016. It's the day I moved into my apartment; really, it's the day that everything in my life began to change.  It's the day I moved into a neighborhood where I am the decided minority (in more ways than one), where I surrounded myself with people I literally don't understand, because we speak a different language. The day I decided to follow God into something bigger, something more; the day I decided (again) that comfort zones weren't all they were cracked up to be.  It's the day I began to meet a lot of people who have become so dear to me now. People and families who are friends, kids who have adopted me as a surrogate teacher and some form of big sister.  It's the day I began really learning exactly how much I still don't know. When abstract thoughts and theologies and ideologies became decidedly less abstract. Because I jumped into a community with people whose cultures and bac…

He Kept Saying...

Lately it feels as though the news is one horrid story after another. But this week two exceptionally repulsive things happened. First, a candidate for governor in my state is driving a “deportation” bus around, campaigning on the promise to round up immigrants because they are “murderers, rapists, kidnappers, child molesters, and other criminals.” Second, the President of the United States, in an interview, called immigrants who are in the country illegally “animals.” And though the White House clarified that the comment was  about gang members and not all undocumented immigrants, it’s still wildly inappropriate. All people – gang members or no – are made in God's image, and no one should make these statements about another human beings.**

These are just two statements in a long line of incidents targeting minority groups in our country. Over and over and over again, stories emerge recounting how our neighbors and community members are targeted because of their class or gender or …