The Fate of Familiarity

I don’t know about you, but I don’t like being pushed out of my comfort zone. I like the familiarity of my routine, my space, and my time. When one of those is disrupted, I feel unsettled. When all of them are disrupted, I feel completely overwhelmed. My instinct is to withdraw, to hide, and to scramble for some sense of normalcy (and my favorite dark chocolate).

Lately, that’s been the case. There’s a lot happening across several areas of life and it feels like I’m being pushed out of every safe haven. Nothing feels familiar and I don’t like it.

But to trust God is to move past the comfort of familiarity and into the unknown. If we only look for him in the familiar words or circumstances of the past, we give Satan a foothold to stymie our growth. We get stuck. We miss seeing a God bigger than the words, people, or circumstances we’ve come to rely on. 

To stay in familiarity, we might:

• Stay in a ministry out of duty or loyalty, rather than calling—preventing someone else’s potential blessing of service and our own personal growth that naturally comes from changing directions

• Confine ourselves to a comfortable community, rather than seeking new faces—missing growth that comes from new perspectives

• Guard our time and space too tightly—avoiding interruptions that provide opportunities for us to love others well 

  
  

Some of us approach discomfort and immediately U-turn back to our places that are safe. We are comfort-boomerangs. We refuse to experience anything unfamiliar. Sometimes, we refuse to acknowledge that life exists beyond our own experiences. 

We unconsciously send the message: God, you’ve been able to do great things without interrupting my life before. Surely you can do it again. Please don’t make me uncomfortable.

But isn’t that the point?

And isn’t that the cost of following him?

Sometimes, God’s calling is so strong and so profound that we can’t ignore his voice. And often his voice calls us into unfamiliar spaces that challenge our faith so that we can grow. He brings storms to strengthen our roots, wind to strengthen our branches, and fruit to share with others.

That’s where I find myself now—in unfamiliar and uncomfortable spaces that interrupt my calendar, my space, and my comfort. I was recently reminded of the importance of endurance. I can’t see the fruit yet, but I trust that he is working for me and through me. He is challenging me to grow and using me to help others. I’m having to endure, to push through, to sit in discomfort, to offer grace, to admit wrong, to reassess my motives and my heart, and to go to him in prayer more often than I usually do.

And it’s worth it. 

Because to fall to the fate of familiarity would mean to miss out on the growth and blessings that can only come through the discomfort of endurance.

And one day, in each of the areas currently filled with discomfort and unfamiliarity, I’ll be able to see the fruit of endurance—healing, purpose, and hope.