The only thing constant is change

A little over a year ago, I moved to Colorado. I remember being so excited—finally I would have some stability in my life! The last couple years had been a whirlwind for me: going overseas, moving across the country, working various new jobs...it was a lot of transitions.

I thought that as soon as I settled into my new home, the changes would stop, or at least slow down. I think this was because I originally interpreted the word “change” to mean external changes only, and I had had a lot of those in the last few years. Yet I was not anticipating the unsettling nature of the internal changes that were about to come. For me, that was almost harder to deal with than the external, situational changes. The internal changes of new relationships, a new church community, new loves, and new dreams now flooded my life. 

I often feel like the waves of change are continually crashing over my life. As soon as I adjust to one thing, there is yet another decision or anticipated change ahead. Close friends get married, people move away, you draw close in some friendships and others drift away. Some of the change is in my control, but most of it is not. Life is in a constant state of change; and change is hard. 

When I anticipate a coming change, I often anxiously and almost subconsciously reach for something to hold onto for security in the midst of transition. This is a natural human response; we were created with a longing for stability and security. In different seasons, I’ve clung to different things for security. Often, I cling to relationships with the people around me, wanting them to remain stable, close, and secure. Other times, I cling to my physical health and abilities. If everything in my life feels unfamiliar and out of my control, at least I can go to a gym and lead myself in a workout. 

I have also always been drawn to the mountains as a picture of stability in a world that is constantly shifting. They are vast, magnificent, stunning, and rarely change. As I write this, I sit in a coffee shop overlooking the snow capped mountains of Colorado Springs. I think of my aunt’s house here that overlooks a beautiful mountain ridge. But about 10 years ago, there was a destructive forest fire that overtook that ridge and even threatened to take their home. They had to evacuate, and while by God’s grace, were able to come back to an unscathed house, they now overlook a mountain side that is scarred. What once was a lush, green mountain side, is now a barren slope. 

This story is a picture of Isaiah 54:10, which has been a core life-verse for me. It says: “‘For the mountains may depart and the hills be removed, but my steadfast love shall not depart from you, and my covenant of peace shall not be removed,’ says the Lord, who has compassion on you.” I love the picture this verse paints—the mountains that I love so dearly are one of the most stable and beautiful features in all of creation, yet even they are vulnerable to change. God says here that even if the thing in creation that feels the most stable and unchanging to me, were to change, His love and peace would never be removed. Maybe for you, the thing that feels the most secure in your life is a relationship, a job, your savings account, a physical home, or health. Whatever it might be, God assures us that even if that thing were to change, He would remain the same. 

This specific attribute of the Lord has a name: immutability. The definition of “immutable” is: “unchanging over time, or unable to be changed.” This is an eternal attribute of God, one that provides security and stability in our walk with Him. This attribute belongs to Him alone; every other person or thing in this world is a created thing, and thus, susceptible to change. Every person, every piece of nature, every social construct, will inevitably change in one way or another, but God is entirely different from His creation in that He will never change in any way. 

The immutable nature of God has become one of my favorite attributes of God in this season because it is something that I can cling to, and have clung to, during the seemingly never-ending waves of transition that wash over my life, season after season. The stability of the mountains cannot even begin to compare to the steadfast nature of His character and love for us as His children, and in that I can rest secure.