Two Truths and a Lie about Moving
Tears stung my eyes as I stepped into our Chicago apartment. The worn hardwood floors groaned underneath my feet as I explored the empty rooms. Despite the sunny July day outside, the inside felt gloomy because neighboring buildings blocked most of the light from windows.
We had committed—sight unseen—to renting this affordable family apartment from the university for the first year of my husband’s medical school. With no air conditioning or ceiling fans, I swiped sweat from my forehead and wondered how challenging street parking would be with a toddler—whenever we bought a car.
I quieted the inner voices of family and friends who broadcasted the high crime rates of Chicago—while statistics are useful, they can also paint a one-dimensional view of complex dynamics. Everything was unfamiliar in this large Midwest city. I felt as out of place as a flower growing between the cracks on a sidewalk.
Doubt seized the moment and whispered, “How could this be God’s provision?”
Truth: God places us in our geographic locations for a purpose.
I haven’t lived anywhere for more than three years—and the past two decades have been especially full of transition. But with each international or domestic move, I marvel at how God orchestrates my location like a grand master strategically moving chess pieces. And the same is true for all of us. God has “determined allotted periods and the boundaries of [our] dwelling place” (Acts 17:26)—with all the positives and negatives each spot holds.
He moves us where he desires for whatever time period he deems right. Whether it’s pursuing a graduate degree in a sprawling city, relocating our job to a rural town, staying rooted in our hometown, or wandering around the globe—God uses it all for his purposes because he is the one who allowed it to be so.
We can trust God knows where he planted us and lean into how he wants to utilize us there for his glory. Sometimes discerning this purpose feels like summiting a mountain. Other times, it’s as natural as watching the sun rise. But wherever we land on this spectrum, God knows how many days we’ll spend in a place and the ways he will grow us into his likeness.
Truth: God gives us good gifts, including where we live.
When my husband later matched for residency in the suburbs, I wasn’t thrilled. I didn’t want to restart our lives 14 miles west of the city. Because 14 miles might as well have been 1,000 miles.
But the goodness of this relocation became clearer as time unfolded—a good gift from God in response to our prayers for a “family-friendly residency.”
When we ask our heavenly Father for something, he delights to “give good things to those who ask him” (Matt. 7:11). Not second best or whatever is on sale but good things that can bring joy to our hearts because he is a loving Father.
God knows the ins and outs of our hearts, and each place we land—if we look and listen closely—can have traces of what makes our souls sing.
As we slow down to notice what’s around us—whether we wanted to be in a specific place or not—we can find good gifts from our Father. Perhaps it’s a nearby park, a new friendship, an apartment window view, blossoming lilacs, or a reading nook. Whatever it may be, we can trust that God sees us and wants to give us that good gift for the season we are in.
Lie: Our kids will adapt quickly to change.
We sometimes think transitions won’t impact our kids as much as us, but moving is traumatic no matter the age. As adults, we can often keep pressing through the discomfort because we know eventually things will fall into place. But our kids don’t have the same life experiences and tools to navigate the rocky path ahead. While starting over can be exciting, initially the path overflows with loneliness and the unfamiliar.
When it came time for us to leave the Chicago area, my kids didn’t want to move. While my husband and I longed to return to our roots out West and to be closer to family, our boys didn’t have any connection to the West. My six-year-old had been born and raised in the Midwest. From our sons’ vantage points, we had friends, a church family, schools they loved, and everything was good. Why would we change that?
As parents, we can expect emotions too big for words and sadness over what was left behind. Our kids (and us!) need space for grief—the messy variety that ebbs and flows over the coming months after a big move. But we can also point our kids to the trustworthiness of Jesus, watching for his provision as we do the hard work of rooting our lives in a new place together.
As we embrace the beauty and intentionality of our Father in determining where we live today, we can trust his good plans and provisions for us in that place—even when it’s difficult. And we can anticipate the day when we will dwell with God forever as his cherished children. Tears, hurt, loneliness, and loss will no longer exist because we will be at home in the heavenly city with our beloved King—without end.[1]
[1] Rev. 21:2–4
