I Guess this isn’t the First Time God Used a Flood to Change Somebody’s Plan


So yesterday morning, doing what’s become part of my daily routine, I read Rachel Held Evans blog, today dealing with how to be happy when you’re growing and it’s about the journey and not the destination. You should read it here. In fact, I highly recommend it or the rest of my post will make no sense.

I was really looking forward to this week. The hustle of Easter was over but the joy lingers. There’s a royal wedding. And most of all, Tuesday evening I’d finally get to meet with the Commission on Ministry to get some sense of if and when this calling from God will get to translate to seminary and someday stable life. It’s the meeting the last 10 months have been building up to — a meeting I’d get to leave with a solid sense of what the next few years, and probably the rest of my life, will look like.

But Monday evening I got a call from my rector: the meeting had been canceled due to flooding in Louisville. It’s one of the worst calls I’ve ever received, and I can make melodramatic statements like that because I’ve never received a real bad news call like someone I love has suddenly died or my parents are getting a divorce or all the grocery stores in town have quit stocking Nutella.

If you’d had a stethoscope to my chest you would have heard my heart sink, which came out as the most unlady-like “ugh!” I could muster. The next hour or so was filled with a despicable blend of cynism and self-pity. How bad could this “flooding” be? (pretty bad, as it turns out) How long will it take for them to reschedule this time? (Probably not that long) This is only my life they’re dealing with here! (Cortney, if you want any semblance of control of your life, you’re in the wrong business. Get used to it.)

Luckily I had good friends around who both comforted me with their tear soaking shoulders and reminded me of the hard truth: discernment can’t be rushed. And that made me remember Rachel’s post that I talked about earlier and realized that the past year, I’ve been absorbed in an arrival fallacy, thinking once I knew something, then I’d be happy and my life could really begin. Maybe that’s what makes the journey so disheartening: the speed bumps and the check points and the toll bridges. While I must never loose hope that my journey will place me where I need to be, it’s senseless to imagine that these speed bumps and check points and toll bridges will ever end.    

At least I still have this royal wedding to look forward to. Unless that’s going to be canceled, too.


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