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  • Sonya Leigh Anderson

Goose Chase


I sat outside on my porch this afternoon enjoying the surprise of warm sun in late October. I had been napping and reading in turns until I was distracted by a cacophony of migrating geese. As I glanced up to watch the impressive flock flying in formation overhead, it struck me the geese were flying north, not south. Is this normal? I wondered. And then, as the last of the gang disappeared from sight, I saw one lone goose flying solo, and south. I laughed out loud.

It struck me funny because just this morning I was re-reading the intro to a book by Mark Batterson, called Wild Goose Chase. According to Batterson, Celtic Christians have a special name for the Holy Spirit. An Geadh-Glas – “the Wild Goose.” Batterson thinks (and so do I) the name is fitting. Much like a wild goose chase, the wind of the Spirit is hard to follow. It lacks predictability.

And isn’t that the truth.

Lately I’ve had the thought almost daily. This isn’t what I expected. This life I find myself living today, as good as it is, is not where I thought I was going. And truth be told, I’m not the least bit certain of where I’m going from here. Wild goose chase, indeed.

Three years ago I honestly thought I knew. I thought I had a plan. I had been missing teaching and I felt sure God was leading me back to the classroom, via a master’s degree from the seminary. During the year and a half I spent at the Sem, when asked what path I planned to pursue, I’d talk about teaching. High school, maybe.

And then we met Felipe and Jimmy.

Two weeks earlier I had had nothing in mind but finishing my degree. I think I’d said it out loud. I’m all in to finish this thing. But the wind of the Spirit is a mysterious thing.

It’s been almost a year, and the wind is still blowing, and not one thing that’s happened in the past ten or so months has been according to my plan. I’ve almost grown accustomed to the shift in the Wind. But not quite.

This morning we received news, via Patti, our FANA friend. The Colombian courts are on strike. I shake my head now even as I type. What next?

We have no idea what it means. Four families who have become our friends are still down there, waiting on Colombian courts to release them for home. We wait in Minnesota for permission to come. And there’s not one thing any one of us can do, but wait.

Wait on the wild goose chase.

“The wind blows wherever it pleases. You hear its sound, but you cannot tell where it comes from or where it is going. So it is with everyone born of the Spirit.” (John 3:8)

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