JON IN SLC

Exodus

It’s been one year to the day that I moved out here, to Salt Lake City. My girlfriend Jessica and I hopped into my 1992 Toyota Tercel, packed with nearly everything I owned, and drove southeast. We left my hometown of Vancouver, Washington at 5:30 am Pacific Time and arrived in my new home of Salt Lake City, Utah at about 8:30 pm Mountain Time.

A year later, I’m sitting in the front room of my condo two blocks west of the LDS Temple, and my wife is bringing me a bowl of granola. I’m looking out at the snow falling.

Growing up in the Pacific Northwest, I learned to cherish snow as a child. Snow meant forts, snowball fights, snowmen. As I grew older, snow meant school closures. Hot chocolate. Walks through the neighborhood accompanied only by the crunching sound of snow underfoot. Looking out the window into a world suddenly hushed by a cool white blanket. Suddenly brought to a place where I look back and remember instead of looking forward and saying “What’s next?” It snows pretty often here, so I don’t cherish it the way I did as a child. However, today I’m choosing to celebrate the snow in a similar way.

Looking back. As I’m writing, looking back at this past year, it feels like I’m just transcribing a story that God’s been writing.

Looking back on my first few months here, I can now see that God brought me out of my own personal Egypt into the desert of his abundance. It wasn’t an Egypt of external oppression like the one in Exodus or even the one that present-day Egyptians are coming out of. Mine was an Egypt of safety. Security. Control. Familiarity. These were the walls I had build up around myself.

In Exodus, God brought his people into the desert out of Egypt. There, they had to learn to rely on him for everything. They weren’t able to become hoarders and, in doing so, think that they were somehow sustaining their own lives. No, God provided food and water for them new every morning. They followed him as a cloud by day and as a pillar of fire by night. Throughout the rest of the Bible, God points back to this period, saying: “Remember when you used to follow me? Remember when you truly trusted me?”

In the same way, I had to rely on God for everything when I came out here. In the desert of Utah, God taught me. Fed me. Led me. Gave me temporary places to stay. Allowed the little money I brought with me to last longer than was reasonable. Taught me and sustained me through sickness, loneliness, and car wrecks (Yes, that was the Tercel).

He brought together people from all over the valley and all across the country. God created a people here – a community of faith to proclaim his kingdom in a way that hadn’t been done here before.

In the desert of Utah, God changed the way I followed him. He changed my experience and knowledge of church. Missio Dei Community – the community that was stretched across the country last year, is now here in Salt Lake City. There are four house churches that meet together. Once a week, the house churches come together for a worship gathering. This wasn’t happening a year ago. God is good.

In the desert of Utah, God strengthened my relationship with Jessica. When I moved out here, she and I were dating. Paradoxically, the distance pulled us closer together. I flew back and proposed to her in Portland in late May. She moved out to Salt Lake in July. We’ve been married since September. Since then, God held up a mirror in front of me. He’s shown me how much grace I need on a regular basis. God is good.

In the desert of Utah, God continued to pull me back to him. Two years ago, I never would have imagined my life would look like this. To be honest, I never would have envisioned something this good. Even though I know better than to guess how this next year will look, I’m still looking ahead – and I’m excited to see what God has in store.

It’s still snowing. My cereal bowl is now in the dishwasher. I’m looking two blocks east and the snowfall is obscuring my usual view of
Temple Square. Not sure how to end this, other than:

It’s been a year, Utah. Happy anniversary. God is still good.