Back to the Beginning

In about two days, I'll be a student again. It seems like teaching was a million years away. I can't quite come to grips with it. I was at a college campus on Tuesday and these two freshmen walked up and started talking to me. At first the conversation was normal until I was hit with the overwhelming realization that 6 months ago I would've been their teacher. That makes me... old. This week has been one to-do list after the other and, as much as I fight the irreversable fact that the younger version of me is off in some distant universe, the truth is that with each passing day I'm walking one step closer to nose-hairs and potbellies (these being my biggest two reasons why I never want to be old).

And I guess being a student makes the whole aging process a bit more... complicated. As a 23-year old, I struggle to stay awake past 10 o'clock without three cups of that liquid gold we mortals have dubbed "coffee". All-nighters are definitely something that I need to leave in yesteryear. Some things will be different (finding some way to juggle school and life) while others undoubtedly will be the same.

With school gawking at me from right around the corner, a lot of memories have come flooding back. I can laugh and remember how terrified/nervous/awkward I was during my first day of high-school. And a serious head-shake is warranted at the thought of how cool I tried to be in college... In hindsight, most of the times I tried to be cool (white-tees, rattails, afros, baggy pants, and FUBU) come off as embarrassingly corny. In fact, a trip home is definitely needed to destroy some of the evidence that these events actually took place (i.e. me having permanent residence on the sitting on the step). But I guess most of all I can look at harsh break-ups, rejection letters, failures, friendships and success from a different vantage point.

Lately I've been noticing how the root of bitterness destroys relationships within my own family and, maybe even more importantly, how it pollutes memories. Instead of the past being something we can laugh over, it becomes a justification for emotions. And I guess, like everything else, it all goes back to Adam and Eve (or... Eve cause it was all her fault right?). We could all hate Adam for messing up... everything. But then again, God had a plan in place to demonstrate his glory and his grace. Even though I find myself filled with it at times, I don't really believe in regret. It all depends on perspective.

Fight to believe that in your pursuit of God, the embarrassing, painful, surprisingly uncomfortable moments are displaying his amazing glory. The gospel transforms lives to the glory of a Risen King. He's not some evil kid with a magnifying glass trying to make our lives suck, there's a purpose to it all. Because if you don't have faith in his sovereignty, his purpose, his plan, his glory... at the end of the day what do you really have?

Moving Blues

A few weeks ago, the thought of owning a home didn’t make any sense in my feeble human mind. I mean, it’s like getting married and having kids… except without any of the perks. Owning a house also grants you the ridiculous ability to store, locate, and hoard an incomprehensible amount of junk.

But then last week happened and I was privileged to move from one apartment to the other (P.S. if you don’t know by now… if I ever use the word privileged I’m being sarcastic). Somehow this glorious event took me an entire week and it was here that I came to the irrevocable conclusion that moving sucks… a lot. Packing and unpacking, standing out in the blistering heat holding a box of glorified trash, and don’t even get me started on steps (who invented them and why!?!?). Yes, I hate moving.

Ironically, this serves as an easy spiritual metaphor for my life… kind of darned if you do, darned if you don’t. It’s been pretty evident that God is moving me from “teacher” to “missions (fingers crossed)”. And while I’m excited about the destination, I’m not really feeling the transition. As I told a friend earlier this week, I’ve been in full Israelite mode. In Exodus the Children of God begged Him to send them back into slavery because they were hating the journey even though they longed for the destination. They had been delivered, their prayers had been answered… and all they could do was wish that they had never prayed in the first place.

Perhaps, in some overly complicated and philosophical way that is far beyond my comprehension, the journey is necessary to prepare you for the destination. In my own life that means the being “financially constrained” (the politically correct way of saying that my life is being limited by a budget), flustered as to how I’ll balance school and work, and jobless is what I need right now. Ugh… that is definitely a tough pill to swallow but then again this life is a life of transitions. If our eternal destination is someplace else… won’t we always be in a constant state of flux?

At any rate, the juice will be worth the squeeze and, as I cram to prepare for Open Mic nights, prepare lessons for Adult Bible Fellowship, and master Greek and Ancient Hebrew… there’s comfort in that truth. Call it growing pains, moving blues, or transitional lamentations (I made that last one up J)… I just know with certainty that as much as I hate transitions and waiting… they’re both essentials and somehow exalt the King’s Glory. And in the end, isn’t that enough to help us suck it up and keep on walking?