Location, Location

Gretchen and I went apartment hunting today. I guess I'm naive, because I thought this was going to be really fun.

Wrong.

The first apartment I looked at was tiny. The second apartment was spacious and beautiful-- and in a really sketchy neighborhood. The third one was small-- we could choose to have a living room OR a second bedroom, but not both. Oh, and it was $200 more than our maximum. The fourth one was great-- and we got harassed walking to and from the apartment building. The fifth one got rented to someone else literally five minutes before we got there. And the sixth one... well, let's just say it was next to this huge abandoned building on a pretty abandoned street in a sketchy neighborhood in Brooklyn. And the only closet was a tiny linen closet in the hallway. So we'll start again tomorrow.

I don't think we're being that picky. Our third roommate now doesn't like it when we have people over-- and if you know me at all, you know that this is killing me softly. I itch to entertain. So does Gretchen. We just want a place that's big enough to have people over-- sushi-making parties, movie nights, for dinner, apple pie parties, sleepovers with out-of-town guests, Christmas parties. Yes, plural.

I really wrestle with where we should look. As single women that often get home late at night because of our jobs, I know we need to take safety into consideration. But I also know that God is just as in-control of my safety in East Harlem as he is here in Cobble Hill. When I heard Nicky Cruz speak at Brooklyn Tabernacle last Sunday, he told about his mentor David Wilkerson who came into a dangerous neighborhood where Nicky was a gang leader. The police told Wilkerson they wouldn't go with him, but he told them that was okay because God was going with him instead. I'd actually never heard of Nicky Cruz before that special service at BT (yes, sometimes I'm convinced I live under a rock...); but it's clear that he has committed his life to serving his new Master. And he is winning many souls for Christ-- and I bet he's glad that David Wilkerson didn't listen to the safety warnings about going into that neighborhood.

So how do you balance it? What is the right relationship between trusting God and being responsible? Part of me would love an apartment with nice granite countertops and hardwood floors and a doorman in the lobby (if I could afford all that!). But the stronger part of me wants to find the roughest neighborhood I can, with kids whose parents don't pay any attention to them and who just need to know that Jesus loves them so much-- and to live there and know them and tell them all about him.

I am wrestling with where God has me in life right now. So many questions. Not enough answers to go around.

I remember when I attended the church-planting assessment last year, the man in charge talked about God showing us footprints that we needed to place our heel in-- and it wasn't until our heel was planted that we could tell which direction our toes were pointing to know where the next step was.

I have planted my heel in New York City. I just still can't tell which direction my toes are pointing.