Ready For Europe

Rome—my preconceptions of the city were met, and—at the same time—blown out of the water. Rome, within its walls, holds the speed of Nairobi traffic as well as the quaintness of the small, Tuscan town of Hollywood blockbusters. Its piazzas are most striking. In the midst of a vast jungle of streets and buildings, the piazzas are a spacious oasis. At the center, a fountain or statue occupies the focal point. People flock to the openness of the piazza. From it, beautiful alleys and streets, overflowing with shops and stands, shoot like spokes from a hub. Rome, at once, holds history, beauty, modernity, antiquity, casualness, fashion, and lightening speed.

To-morrow, To-morrow, To-morrow

What do I love to do? This is the question that constantly plagues my thoughts; this fiend, whom I can neither see nor touch, has obtained some manner of omnipresence. It seems that I can never gain a moment’s respite from this lurking foe. At any instant, the hated question may rear its ugly head and smugly ask, “Have you figured out what you’re doing with your life?” What a vile thing to ask. How could I know the answer to such a huge question? My first reaction is to ignore the difficulty posed by such a question; if I push it to the side I will forget it and, more importantly, it will forget me. Quickly I realize that I am only fooling myself; I cannot run from this decision, nor can I hide.

So I turn to face my sneering companion. As I do, I am reminded that my future, as unknown as it may be, is in hands far greater than my own. The words of Christ, captured by his disciple Matthew, are a soft, relaxing breeze to my tired mind. “Look at the birds of the air, that they do not sow, nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not worth much more than they? And who of you by being worried can add a single hour to his life?” [Matt. 6.26-27] At these words, I am overcome by a sense of peace. The realization that the God of the universe, in whom I have placed my trust, will provide in ways I cannot imagine, brings immense relief. The smug look on my opponent’s face has all but withered.

Wait, has the look withered or was it even there in the first place? Have I been blind? Has the “grey rain-curtain…[been] rolled back”? I suddenly realize that the question, which I have seen for so long as a foe, is truly a blessing waiting to be grasped. Just as the early Christians in Rome were told “to present [their] bodies a living and holy sacrifice, acceptable to God,” so my future presents me with the same opportunity. [Rom. 12.1] As I look upon the question of what to do with my future, I desire that Paul’s exhortation be made real in whatever path I may follow. It is that desire that guides my every thought and every decision concerning the future.

Truly, it is quite odd; nothing, in the practical sense, has changed. My future lacks clarity as it did before; even so, I breathe easily. My perspective has changed. With a new focus, the question regarding my future is developed and improved. The prompt is no longer, “what am I going to do with my life,” but “how can I make my life a holy sacrifice?” What will I do on this earth that will increase the glory of God? In what way can I accomplish such a serious and weighty mission? These questions, though more grave than the original, make me smile. These questions are my friends, these questions address my passions. A joyful voice is asking, “What do you love? Where do your passions reside?”

Immediately, like a volcano that has reached its boiling point, I explode with an answer, “I love people! I need to work with them!” It is quite true, I readily admit to myself. People are a joy and a pleasure with which interaction is challenging and rewarding. Undoubtedly, my life, in some way, has to revolve around interaction with others. Immediately, I am nagged with the statement, “but you’re a history major.” It’s stated with such a cold, matter-of-factness; I shudder. Of course I’m a history major! What does it matter? All too quickly it dawns on me; historians are not generally known for careers that involve vast amounts of personal interaction. Such a realization leaves in its wake a frightening dilemma; am I forced to walk the path of a typical historian, or can I combine my love of people in the past with my love of people in the present?

At length, a new thought, a rising sun, showers me with an idea that warms and illuminates. I am not constrained by a course of study; in fact, knowledge in one area awakens understanding in another. “What do you love about history?” I am slowly asked. You mean there is something behind my interest in history? Could there possibly be something deeper? History is facts; it is dates, it is philosophies, it is dead rulers and subjects. History is war and it is peace. Yet, it is not these things that I love. When I read history I am captivated by what element? All of a sudden, with little ceremony, I realize what is so enchanting about history. It is a story! Of course, it is the splendor and romance of a story that is the simple, beautiful element in the study of history.

Another piece of the puzzle has been found. My future must contain interaction with a story. I must tell my story while helping others discover their own. For the first time, I begin to think in specifics. What would allow me to pursue a desire for storytelling? Most obviously, I could become a writer. Wait a minute, I am not a writer; I struggle when I am given a four-page assignment. At the same time, I love sharing my thoughts, I love telling the story I see unfolding before me. Writing would allow me to delve into this great story, the story of the ages that is continually being authored by God Himself. However, I am unconvinced. Writing cannot possibly be for me. I am fascinated by the prospect of writing but scared senseless by an art-form in which I see nothing but my own inadequacies. Nonetheless, I find the possibility of composing written work mystifying and intriguing. Before I have to time to enjoy the possibility of a future in writing, I am sideswiped by the possibility of telling the story I so love, in a completely different way. Yes, of course; I could tell the story visually. Photography would give me the chance to tell the same story that consistently shines through in my writing. With the thought of these creative avenues, I feel my passions begin to boil at the possibility of sharing in the honor of telling a great story.

In spite of my excitement, the specific question of my future remains unanswered. I find myself confused by my passions; they seem too many. Will I ever be able to experience each passion or am I resigned to one? Will I find the opportunity to enjoy these passions on a daily basis? But most importantly, can I unite my love for these things with my desire to present myself as “a living and holy sacrifice”? I believe the answer to these questions is yes. However, I must be careful. If only my passions are realized, they shall become meaningless. However, the life of sacrifice without passion is an offering that is bland and tasteless. The vision of the future, seen through the lens of my present self, suggests unknown, but exciting possibilities. I am no longer scared by the possibility of a passionless life; on the contrary, I am thrilled by the uncertainty of the future, a future that “opens before [me] the possibility of making every act of [my life] contribute to the glory of God.” All the questions subside as I realize the immense blessing of a passion filed life directed towards a passion filled God.

Out of Reach

Death comes too slowly
life ebbs away.
Strength of our youth
wanes into human entropy.

All that we desire
is held before us,
like Tantalus,
sentenced to a lifetime;

striving and failure.
Death brings peace
or so we hope.
For life has wounded
beyond repair.

Iridescent Innocence

Warm, green grass
caressing my feet while
cool, crisp air
grazes my face
And there are
acorns

I love the brown
smattered against
the green, like
chocolate chips in a verdant
cookie.

Now a warm ray
of light cuts through
the trees.
It cascades like a sparkling
waterfall.
It glitters.
I love the
colors.