Simple Love

Journal #5

            Life needn't be complex to be enjoyed. The ordinary has just as much to offer as the extraordinary.

            I have a close connection to home, but I don’t get to go there as often as I would like. This weekend, though, I didn’t have to. Home came to me.

            Mom, Dad, Nana, and Grandpa made the 7-hour trek to Tigerville, SC to watch their son/grandson march the first halftime show of his college career. I was flattered and excited, but more so I was grateful just to have 47 hours to be with them. I was busy with school and marching band for much of that time, but Saturday morning we, together with my cousin Hannah, needed to find something to do. Normally, my mind and spirit associate “fun” with adventure. Hiking, kayaking, running, flying, exploring and the like are among my favorites. I don’t consider a day complete if my muscles aren’t sore and my mind thoroughly worked out. This weekend, though, was different. All we did was shop at three stores: Wal-Mart, Pecknel’s Music, and REI. Wandering through the endless aisles of goods, I found myself satisfied simply to be with them. That’s all. At that moment, I was having just as much fun as I would have had I been conquering the summit of Mt. Kilimanjaro. Love is worth more than any adrenaline-induced moment of elation.   

            Walking back from the Café on Sunday evening, I noticed the sun gently highlighting the mountain-sloped horizon. There were no bright, fluffy clouds. The sun hadn’t even thrown out its fiery-red rays of glory. All that was left of the day was a cool, reminiscent glow. What a perfect way to end the weekend, I thought. It was beautiful. It was beautifully simple.  

             

Of Visions and Daydreams

Journal #4

                 A chapel speaker recently said something like this: “There is a difference between having a vision for God and daydreaming for God.”

                I tend to mix the two up. A vision is from God, but a daydream is from man. A vision glorifies God, but a daydream glorifies man. A vision involves an intimate, growing relationship with God, but a daydream is merely obsessing over an accomplishment. God doesn’t want men to daydream about being a Christian ‘success’. He wants us to reach out to the world with a vision of His love, grace, power, and salvation. But how? How do we envision rather than daydream? How do we reach out to the world with God’s message of forgiveness? I wish there was a cookie-cutter explanation, but there’s not.  I don’t know the answer. But I do know that God reveals His will step-by-step, in a steady trickle of grace.

                God has been teaching me that the first step towards discovering my vision is to become closer to its Source. I don’t have to know exactly where the future leads, but I do have to be make an intentional effort to draw closer to Christ every single day. If I don’t focus on what God would have me do today, why should He ever show me what to do tomorrow? Most of life is working hard, clinging in faith to the promise that God will complete the work He began in us. We do not live in moments of inspiration; we experience moments of inspiration. We live in moments of exhaustion. Trusting God, though, we will endure to the end, when our work is complete and we can rest in His presence. Then we will praise His Name, rest in His grace, and have an unhindered relationship with Him forevermore. Until that day comes, it is our duty to do all we can to draw closer to Him, battle the spiritual forces of evil, complete the tasks He has given us, and above all rely on Him to get us through. I anticipate the day when I can look back and see what God has done through me, but until then I will do what I can to discover His will day by day.     

                 

                  

Going Home

            One thing I’ve learned in college: there really is no place like home.         

Three weeks of studying, writing, practicing, and agonizing over homework had already left this only child wearied, stressed, and a bit homesick. So when Labor Day weekend came, I headed home like a sailor off the gangway. Restlessly, I drove home full of anticipation and taunted by subconscious memories of my tree-climbing, LEGO-playing childhood. I could almost feel the familiar aura of my home waiting to soothe my spirit.  The smell of my mama’s fresh-baked, delicious muffins seemed to disguise itself with the car’s air-conditioning, and my Dad’s playful, excited call of “He’s home! He’s home!” was already resounding in my ears. My grandparents would be sitting anxiously on the couch, ready to discuss the route I chose, what the traffic was like, and what I could do next time to make the journey easier. Papa would be fired up about something political or theological, and Grandpa would be eager to discuss the Friday night Pierce County football game. I could see Granny and Nana’s eager faces, waiting to hear all about my friends and adventures, and Mom would be hugging my neck and hanging on to every word I said. Dad, of course, would also be planning just how much fun we could pack into the next two days. My aunts, uncles, and cousins would come to visit too, and we would congregate on the front porch for an evening of rustic fellowship, like our pioneering ancestors of old. Oh, home, sweet, home…

As I rounded the final corner of my voyage home, the full moon was rising gracefully in its tiger-orange attire. The purple and red remnants of the sunset were hovering mystically to the West, and at the bend of our lonely country lane, my front yard’s conspicuous pine-trees were pointing to the heavens. Suddenly, I noticed something slightly odd: there was a person meandering down the right-hand side of the road. Five seconds later, I recognized that slightly crooked walk: it was my Dad! Home just couldn’t wait any longer; it had to send out an emissary of love to escort its son right up to its welcoming doorstep. Dad in tow, I drove the remaining 200 yards, clambered out of the vehicle, and climbed into the arms of my eagerly waiting family. My soul was relieved, and I felt peace like the tide wash over college’s burdensome stress. Here I was. I was loved. I was wanted. I was home.