It’s time to say goodbye.

The last few years of life have brought a lot of these: goodbyes to friends, family, and familiarity of all kinds. My church has changed as it’s grappled with truth and pain. In turn, my job changed, and so did many of my relationships. And now all of us are seeing our world change more rapidly than we ever thought possible. Normal has flown the coop.

Almost all of these goodbyes have been outside my control. I’ve stood in the same spot, waving as people and precedents have faded into the distance. But now I’m saying a few farewells of my own.

A couple weeks ago I said goodbye to my job and goodbye to my thirties on the same day.

The Hero’s Journey is a time-tested structure for stories. Be it The Odyssey, Star Wars, Frozen, or the biblical patriarchs, the vast majority of stories across every major genre follow the arc of the Hero’s or Heroine’s Journey, charting a tried-and-true course toward transformation. But what’s the first step? When does the story really begin moving forward? The rush toward transformation starts when the character leaves, when he or she steps out from what is known and comfortable and crosses the threshold into uncharted territory. When he or she is compelled or called to let go of what is safe and walk into the wilderness is when the real story begins.

A few months ago, I began to hear that call. At first, I tried to interpret it as something minor—a refashioning of my role or a sideways step into something similar somewhere else. Then little by little, God started taking me on a journey of peering into the radical call of Abram to “go.” He led me to wander alongside his people in the desert as they followed Moses. He welcomed me to withdraw into the wilderness alongside Jesus. Through scripture, mentors, friends, books, and in that voice—the one that comes like my own thoughts but is wiser, kinder, and more at peace—I felt God talking to me about a more radical departure.

I heard him asking, Will you trust me?

I realized that this time God wasn’t inviting me into a transition but into transformation.

As a result, as I step into my forties I’m walking into the wilderness. Call it a midlife crisis. (It probably is.) Call it crazy. (Without a doubt.) But I call it an invitation. An invitation to what? Well, I’m not sure. I haven’t arrived yet. But Richard Rohr describes it this way:

There is a deeper voice of God, which you must learn to hear and obey in the second half of life. It will sound an awful lot like the voices of risk, of trust, of surrender, of soul, of “common sense,” of destiny, of love, of an intimate stranger, of your deepest self… The true faith journey only begins at this point. Up to now, everything is mere preparation.

So what’s on the horizon? New depths? New insight? New hardship? New calling? New country? New vocation? I don’t know what’s next. It doesn’t make much sense on the surface. Yet, I’m believing that before any future God might show me there are some things he wants to shape in me.

I’m not on this journey into the wilderness alone. My family is right there alongside me. I’ve invited a handful of friends and mentors too. I’d love for you to be along as well, if you’re willing. Through prayer and through any word or thought you might be compelled to share, I’d love for you to walk with me.