Back Where I Come From

Tomorrow morning I'm flying home. I'm not flying to my parents house, to my hometown, or my old place. I'm flying HOME. If there is one thing that I learned out here, and I suspect I will learn anywhere I go, I've learned that I know where my home is and who makes it home. I can't say I will always stay there and I probably won't, but wherever I go I know that there is one place where my heart is at rest.

Yet, I am torn. Basically, I love my home. I love my community. I love my friends. Most of all, I love my family. Can I ever leave these behind?

Coming up to my DC trip I was preparing myself, although half-heartedly, to be "home-less" and prepared to go wherever the wind would take me. Essentially, I was trying to keep myself personally and emotionally uprooted in order to move more easily. But it wasn't true. I am not homeless. Lynden will always be home and where my heart rests peacefully.

But it is not yet my time to rest in peace. My life is still before me and the more I see, learn, and develop here, the more I know that I must face and engage the world. I feel the responsibility of knowing. I wanted to look, but once I've seen I cannot go back. God gives us sight so that we may go and do. This is not my statement of intention to save the world or declaration of having figured it all out, but it is my acceptance of responsibility for what God gave me.

The more I learn, the more I realize I don't know. The more I know (as a verb, not a collection of truths), the more I must give of myself. I wished to know the world, but did not realize the cost. Knowing is not about static facts, but dynamic relationship. Relationship can only be and grow as each entity gives of itself. I wished to know the world from my tower and retreat from its harshness into the loving folds of northwest Washington life. I fear that I sacrificed this peace for the pursuit of my passions.

I cannot say that I fell into these pursuits or that they are bad. It has been the call of God. I do not mean the call of God as we popularly hope for and envision. There were no moments of revelations, "signs," or wet fleeces. Instead, I found the call of God written on my heart, as it is in everyone's. God created man in His image and so inscribed His heart upon all the hearts of men that in knowing our own hearts and the hearts of others we may know God more. Thus have I been drawn into the learning of the ways of the world in power and institutions, how they move and influence human life, and how God is revealed or denied in them.

The pursuit of our passions is hardly a happy occasion. When God reveals His interests and passions in ourselves and others, He will also then reveal His great sorrows. He opens our eyes not to the pain of others, but primarily to His pains, if we will see them honestly. There is so much that is broken in this world. You can imagine the pain of a potter discovering the shards of his pottery on the ground. The scariest and most sorrowful part is that these pains will continue. The world groans in the pains of childbirth and God mourns the pain as it does not end. We must accept that there are deep sorrows about the world that will always be present and to care about them is to ever be sorrowful along with our Master. It is only out of true sorrow that joy can come.

Joy is a tragic love that never reaches its peaceful consummation of its love, but remains love triumphant. To love something not in spite of its ugliness, but in its whole brokenness is true joy. Only that can withstand the greatest powers this world can muster. It is not sweet; it is not pleasant; it is not easy. It is love and it is joy.

Suffice to say, the realization of our passions and the joy of God is the realization of great sorrows and the sacrifice of ourselves to the healing of these sorrows. This is where I am often finding myself these days, especially now as I review the beauty and peace of my home. I have found something beautiful to which I want to retreat and in which to hide myself and be at peace. Yet, I feel and I fear that I have already given myself away. I cannot hide away. I have seen and felt the passions God placed in me and seen and felt them in who He is. Therefore, I must live as my Master shows love in Christ. I must sacrifice my right to my peace if I am to love God.

Who knows where this may take me and how much or how little I will do by the world's standards, but I do know I cannot retreat; I cannot hide. I must heed the sign of Jonah. Contrary to what I thought earlier in this DC adventure with the "home-less" idea I do not have to stop loving my home and uproot that part of my heart. I must keep loving it as God loves it.

But I must learn to willfully deny myself the consummation of that love much the way Christ surrendered His place in heaven and connection to God to become a sacrifice for world. Not because the world was where He wanted to be, but because He loved His Father so much and His Father so loved the world. This is not to put me on par with Jesus or Lynden on par with heaven, but it is an expression of a desire to follow Christ more and more deeply. It's not very pretty, but it is beautiful. It's not very happy, but it is love.

I am torn, but in the tearing my life is being made whole. I'm flying home, but after that, who knows?

(Picture by Caitlin Honcoop. I included this picture because it focused in on something along the wayside that is usually passed by in light of more grand impressions. When the focus is placed on this thing, it shows the struggle and the beauty of life. In the harshest of places and bitterest of struggles, a rock at the alpine level, life springs forth and grows into something beautiful. It reflected some of the themes I was grasping at in my writing. Good pic, Cait.)