On Tuesday, September 27^th I arrived in Florida in advance of Hurricane Ian. 

My full-time job entails hurricane response functions that put Samson and me on a southbound highway, alongside first responders, power trucks, and tree trimmers, driving into a category 4 hurricane instead out of it. 

Sound familiar? 

That’s because it was the start to my last post. 

It’s the start to this one too. 

“Why,” you ask?  “That’s a story we’ve heard.”

Yeah.  I thought so too. 

When I left on 9/27, I thought I would be in Florida for two weeks.  I thought I was coming to do a week of hurricane response and a week at the beach, at our family’s annual vacation.

That didn’t happen. 

Not much of anything that I thought would happen, has happened. 

Oswald Chambers asserts that God engineers our every circumstance and if we look with clear eyes, we will see proof of it every day.  That is certainly true in this case, but I wonder how many divinely engineered circumstances I’ve complained about when they were exactly what was supposed to happen.  I wonder how much growth and refining I’ve missed out on because I couldn’t joyfully accept the twists and turns of unforeseen circumstances. 

When I was a kid on family vacation and something would go sideways (e.g., flat tire, getting lost, sold-out entertainment, sick kids, etc.), my dad would happily say, “We’re on the adventure.” 

His sentiment is simple but profound.  We can choose to embrace the adventure, with all its ups, downs, turns, and flips; or we can stomp our feet, buck up against the things we perceive as undesired, and complain about it all the way home. 

Earlier this week, I was thrilled to be returning to what has been my church home for the last seven years.  It’s a place I had a hard time leaving when I moved to Tennessee. 

Renaut van der Riet founded Mosaic Church and teaches there on a regular basis.  He’s an incredibly gifted teacher, and one I was pleased to get hear in person again.  You can catch him on the Mosaic Church podcast or website but be warned – you will not depart the same human. 

I’ll spare you the full synopsis of this week’s teaching because you’d be better served simply listening to the recording, but Renaut painted a word-picture that – at a minimum – must be shared.  Several times over. 

He was talking about our differently assigned stations in life – one not superior to the other, but undeniably different.  He discussed our responsibility to stand in our separate callings in a way worthy of them, without complaining about them, without continually reaching for something ‘bigger’, ‘better’, or somehow superior to the one in which we’ve been placed – the one for which we were created. 

I think here in the west we’ve become a little confused about why we were put here.  We’ve been taught to pursue individualistic excellence.  To get or portray a life other people will want.  To be the best, consume the best, create and indulge in whatever makes us feel the happiest from moment to moment. 

I’m not saying we shouldn’t pursue our dreams – I think our dreams are often placed inside us by our Creator, on purpose – but I think we’ve lost sight of our first and singular purpose, which is to glorify our King in our every moment, in whatever station He’s assigned us, no matter how far from our desires that happens to seem. 

Renaut painted a word picture that helps demonstrate faithfulness in this space. 

He said he pictures himself in a kingdom in which a king has asked him to strip naked and walk in circles around the kingdom, singing. 

And he does it.  Because the king asked him to do it. 

Are you having the same first reaction I did?  Are you sitting there thinking, “Why?”.  Why would a king ask something like that?  And more so, why would someone obey that order without finding out the purpose of it?  Why didn’t he get a reason, an explanation, a full synopsis of the strategy from start to finish so he could at least begin to understand why he was being asked to do something so outrageous?  Maybe if he got the reason for why he was being asked to do it, it would be easier to understand his actions.    

Our culture has taught us not to just ask, but to demand an explanation for every one of our options.  It has become our instinct and our presumed right to consume every detail, ascertain our best choice for our best life, for our best moment, every moment. 

But I don’t think that’s the nature of the kingdom.  I’ve read that great book several times, but I haven’t yet found in it a promise for explanations.  I haven’t found words that say I’ll be given clear reasons for my every circumstance so that I have the leisure of understanding when things go awry. 

If you’ve been around children at all you know our human nature is to ask. 

“Put your dishes in the sink.” 

“WHY?”

“It’s time for bed.” 

“WHY?”

“You need to say you’re sorry.” 

“WHY?” 

All I can say is if we know how to do this when we’re three years old, it’s a foundational part of our fallen humanity. 

At the end of Renaut’s word picture about walking naked and singing around the gates of the kingdom, he says he pictures someone running up to him and saying, “Hey man, why are you doing this?!  This is crazy!” 

Renaut answers, “I’m doing it because the king asked me to do it.” 

The person looks at Renaut like he’s completely lost his mind and he shouts the very question we’re all thinking, “Why would you obey an order like that?!” 

Renaut’s answer this time is simple, profound, and paramount to how we must proceed. 

“I don’t know why,” he says, “but I know my King.” 

We are not offered explanation.  We are not promised understanding.  But what we are promised is that He is faithful.  He is sovereign.  And that He engineers our every circumstance for His glory.    

When I came to Florida on September 27^th, I thought I would be here for two weeks. 

In the nearly five weeks it’s been since then, I have bounced from place to place, slept on couches, slept outside, slept on beds that don’t smell like me, and taken my dog and my bags in and out of my car more times than I’d like to figure.  I’ve sat at old familiar coffee shops, had conversations with strangers that lasted for hours, and passed countless hours with friends I thought I’d said a final goodbye to when I moved out of state several months ago.  I sang at an impromptu wedding for a dear friend.  I sat with another friend while the concrete below us darkened from her tears.  I prayed over a new couple.  I got to see a friend I never would have seen if I wouldn’t have been in this state, on these days, at this time.  I will see someone who I thought said his final goodbye to me a year and a half ago.  I got to hug a mom who watched her daughter try to end her own life the day previous.  And I got answers to questions I’ve been asking for years.  They are not the answers I thought I wanted.  But they are the answers that were given, and I refuse to demand an explanation for them. 

Through this unpredicted set of circumstances, I will remain in Florida for nearly eight weeks before driving north again.  

It’s been a lot of laundry.  

And I continue to be surprised.  Every day there’s something else that happens that blows my mind.  Another purpose.  Another reason.  Another conversation.  Another interaction that beautifully displays ultimate sovereignty over the tiniest of details. 

I don’t know why; but I’ve seen too clearly to demand any more of an answer than I’ve already been gifted. Too many miracles.  Too many amazements.  Too many astounding ways circumstances have been so engineered that I can no longer be bold enough to raise even a whispered ‘why’ skyward. 

We are not our own.  And I need help with surrender to that every day.  But perhaps the next time we wonder at the insanity of our days we can rest, breathe, and smile at the people who run up to us while we march naked around the kingdom and say: 

“I don’t know why.  But I know my King.”