“What is the hardest part about Word of Life Bible Institute?” I quipped to Mr. Lutz.
It was my first day here in Florida. First time to move away from home. I had picked a location 3000 miles away, a culture so different that it shocked me; heat so strong it knocked the wind from me, skies so bright that I couldn’t open my eyes.
It all reminded me of War of the Worlds. The terraformed landscape of Martian overlords. Florida was so different.
Of course, he would say something like rules or the eighty-four alligators, right? Or the fact people can have two first names? I didn’t know that was real until Billy-Bob picked me up. Even then I often questioned if these callous pranksters were fooling me.
“The hardest part of this place, is that you will fall in love with so many people. And then have to leave. Treasure it.”
I think it was one of the wisest things anyone has ever said to me.
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“Later, I showed the pictures we’d taken…You get a strange feeling when you’re about to leave a place…like, you’ll not only miss the people you love but you’ll miss the person you are now at this time and this place, because you’ll never be the same again.” –Charlie
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Some days we find ourselves waiting for our real life to begin.
Or remember a life we wish had never ended.
I went to an incredible Bible School. The first year for many is a wonderful time of just trusting Jesus, learning the word of God, and being thrust into ministry. Just a year dedicated to pursuing Jesus.
It’s not uncommon for me to hear that “This will be the best year of your life.”
For a long time I believed it was.
For years after I had this longing look-back-in-the-mirror-wink-at-old-ghosts-and-sigh attitude.
As I come back to that warm place for another summer. It’s been almost eight years since my first memories. Leaving the first time was hard enough. I had a rough transition out.
Even a few years after I was struggling with trying to live in the past. I’m not Dr. Who. I can’t change what has happened.
I think upon that period in my life where I was really frustrated.
I was lacking identity in Christ, just a child, just young, foolish.
Late one night I was arguing about how I miss “The best year of my life.” I had found myself wondering if I’d ever go back to Florida.
Would I ever hear the music again? See the thrill of counselors leading kids to Jesus? Would I be able to wander the woods and campfire and grin in the dark night at Jesus like I used to?
I missed it. I missed a place where I was fully alive. Where I felt wholly more who I really am. Where I felt free to be myself and he was alive!
Nowhere else compared. Nothing could rekindle that soulful experience. Like the high school Prom or the college dorm, the past haunted me as the quintessential happy moment in life. I was paralyzed.
In the middle of my heated and spastic comments my good friend Meg, spoke truth, and called me out.
She told me that my first year at college should never remain the best year of my life. Life is too brief and short for the past to set the standard for the present. Embrace it. Enjoy it. Mourn it. But move onto now because the best is yet to come.
There was a time between leaving a place I loved and finding a new one that I missed it. I just missed it. Without knowing how to transition, I lost the present, because the past seemed such a pedestal. The present couldn’t compete. It could never muster up the ability to be what it was. Today is a wonderful thing but it cannot undue the change from yesterday. And change came and I found myself weeping instead of rejoicing.
That conversation changed me.
I realized that I just needed to be where I was. Love what I’m doing. Enjoy the now.
In time I accepted that I probably would never be back. I would move on. Life would go forward. God made my path straight, running it through different countries, different cities, and different memories. I traveled all across America and eventually Asia.
And then…
Like an old friend showing up out of nowhere, I found myself last week back. Back to where I first encountered Jesus so intimately that it propelled my life forward for years. Where raw worship became real. Where friendships seemed to transcend the mundane conversations about movies and television. Where I grew up. Where I had my childhood, teenage years, and adulthood all crammed into a few measly summers.
Driving the old road past the Waffle House, I saw the forests cut down for subdivisions. New stores. The woods had slowly receded as society encroached upon this little place nestled in the boonies. The smell of sulfur brought me back to a time where I loathed the strange tasting water and angry mosquitos. Now they bring comfort.
There is so much change.
People still had no teeth though. That is immutable in the South. That doesn’t change.
So much has shifted and rebalanced. There is so much that is different. There is so much yesterday clinging underneath the skin of everyday here. Yet it is no longer haunting. It is just a joyful nostalgia.
Do we appreciate the now? Do we remember the past just enough to appreciate now and not depreciate the future?
Life is evanescence. A slow decay. For some of us live long. Even to the age of a century. For some of us, we have less then a decade before we will find ourselves feeling the weight of glory.
I’m only twenty five. Sometimes though I find thoughts swirl about in my head. Have I missed my prime? Will I lose my hair fast or slow? I just pretend it is slowly being raptured. That is until my reform friends tell me the rapture is stupid but I am not stupid even if I believe in the rapture. I think they are lying about the latter.
Is it down-hill from here? Did I miss it? Did I miss that big chance to do something huge for God but sabotage my own efforts with my lazy sinful undisciplined self?
Thoughts like that get in my head. I start to wonder how it passed so fast. How I got here. And I find myself paralyzed.
Hallelujah – Ryan Bingham and The Dead Horses
I see it from time to time in the eyes of old alumni.
“I wish I hadn’t gone home and just coasted.”
I see it in the heart of old high school friends.
“I wish I had gone to college and moved on with life instead of working at 7/11.”
I find these people from time to time absolutely ensnared by the past. Remembering everything from the football team to the good ol’ days. The saddest is when they remember the time that they were on the right path.
Many of them with great sigh and sorrow reluctantly say they wish that they could travel the world like I do. I usually say they can right now.
The bold ones leave saying “Someday I’ll do what you do.”
The honest ones usually tell me they probably just won’t, even though they wish that they could.
I see them. Much like I was.
They are regretful; they are paralyzed. I was regretful, sad for so long that the present age isn’t even remotely similar to the glory of an old memory. Instead of carving out a new and wonderful life, they slowly freeze. Sliding into passivity.
At least that’s what I did.
I want to grasp them.
If I could just tell them that this life seeks to disarm them, destroy them, turn them weak. Yet they are children of God, sons and daughters of adoption. Victorious warriors. Immortal beings that shall judge angels. I want to weep and just beg them to believe those promises. To believe God loves us, likes us, and wants to use us now more then yesterday. That the old has gone and the new has come and today is a day where the past glory will look as mud and crust for those that ride fast and strong with Christ.
I think of all those wasted days. Bitter attitudes. Wishing it was yesterday.
Those past memories well up to the surface and I find myself realizing.
This is all over so fast. So fast. It is a handful of moments. Life is but a mere breadth. A few spans. And we find ourselves at the end. It’s too short to waste with regret and hope that the past will resurrect itself. It is too short to wait for our real life to begin.
Some people who read this might feel as if they have had the longest winter ever. No community. A daily job of wasteful floating. Glory days seem as if they have come and gone.
Let me just say though, Proverbs 3:5-6 is this super over-quoted passage of the bible. It’s over quoted because I often think people miss it. It talks about how if we trust in God and follow Him He will make our path straight.
Stop for a second and dwell on that. He doesn’t say He will show us the right path. He says He will make our path straight. Oh what blessed hope there is in that thought! That means today, if you trust and move towards God… it doesn’t matter what path you are on, where your path is headed, the results of your path… what matters is God will make your path straight. He will take you from the crooked path to one of life and hope. What that really tells me is that we never have to live looking for the path. We just have to take our steps forward and be trusting in the power of Christ to guide us.
Going on the Race was a decision to consciously stop waiting for my life to begin. Yet waking up today and soaking in the sunshine while I listen to Iron and Wine was a conscious decision to have life start now.
It’s not easy to leave the country. People often think it is. Yeah, there are joys. But there are also dirty rooms and cockroaches for every good day. It’s not easy, but it’s good. Yet some days it is tough to just live for today then to travel thousands of miles away.
It’s harder to know I leave it without building a foundation. I am not intentionally planning for my trip to propel my next five years of life. After all, I will come back different. I can hardly plan past September. Let alone for August 2014. I know the Race will be beautiful. But it is September to August. After that, the Race is over. Life moves on. Just like I cannot be held captive to the future, I cannot be held captive to the past.
What is it about those days we loved? Write it down and find it in the now. Appreciate it. Look for community. Look for life today. Something affected you. There is a reason. Don’t pursue the past. Pursue the now. Find what that was in the now.
The memories stick, the fruit remains, and life once again will be about carving out a new niche and a new garden. I find that a beautiful thought. Wherever we are a garden can grow. We can build ourselves a place of delight and abundance and fruitfulness. Yet to get that fruit from a tree, you have to plant seeds and wait. Waiting is hard. Winter is rough. But the spring and summer. Those are so beautiful in light of the winter.
deadtorise 