Transition

I've been thinking about this word a lot recently, and using it copiously to describe my current state.

Naturally, the English student in me loves a dictionary definition:

 "the process or a period of changing from one state or condition to another." 

My mind has treated the summer as a transition period - transitioning from student to intern charity worker at Christian Aid, from Durham bubble to London city dweller. Yet in my imagination, the transition was automatic and somehow, I missed "process or period of changing" from my definition.  

Change isn't easy. In fact, for someone like me, a self-titled "control freak" and other-titled "ridiculously stubborn human being", change is pretty tricky. And so, returning to Northern Ireland after finishing uni has been difficult. I've struggled to feel at home in a place that I've treated as a holiday dwelling for the past three years. My identity is no longer defined by my degree or college (English and Theology, Collingwood) and especially without academic work, I have copious amounts of free time and an uncertainty of how to fill it, wisely, so that my 'transitioning' proves successful. 

What I'm slowly realising is that God's idea of transition is so much better than mine. I've felt spiritually lost over the past week, having said farewell to my awesome and very special Church community at Nic's in Durham. I've referred to myself as a 'spiritual nomad', as I'm not settling at a Church until London in September. However, this summer is not about waiting for that time, but allowing God to work.

I've been reading Jeremiah recently, which has been a massive struggle in itself as it fluctuates between God's rejection and restoration of Israel. However, having read a blog which encouraged me to read the Bible as the story of God and his people, not a quick fix to all my problems, I decided to persevere. Happily, I stumbled upon Jeremiah 18, which coincidentally (!!) happened to be the passage that was preached on at our final Nic's evening service. I'd written a note in my Kindle which simply said, "And the fire that lies ahead will only enhance your beauty." And I loved it. And realised that the process of change is a bit like this, a refining fire which at the time is awkward and difficult, but in the long term, will be beautiful. 

It reminded me a bit of John 15: 

"I am the true vine, and my Father is the gardener. He cuts off every branch in me that bears no fruit, while every branch that does bear fruit he prunes so that it will be even more fruitful." v1-2

Someone once noted in a talk that pruning isn't a pain-free process. Cutting off branches is painful, if you're the vine. And it's trusting that God knows which branches to cut off, even if we don't, and accepting that the process will be beneficial, even when it's sore.

Metaphors aside, God's got my summer sorted, even if I don't, and he knows exactly why I'm here for the next week, in England for the following two, and then home for a whole 20 days before transitioning is complete and the next chapter begins. The timing is impeccable. The timing is God's. 

Hopefully this blog post is the start of a documenting of the happenings of my journey. The transitioning of student to adult, which is a process, not a step. I'm excited for this. After 6 years of private blogging (probably better described as journalling...) I'm letting this become public, with the prayer that my life will echo something of God. 

Let's see how it goes.