Several
piles of random items scatter my floor right now as I sit on the one unoccupied
corner of my bed. Two packed suitcases are shoved by the wall and half-packed
boxes sit on my floor. In four days, I’m moving. I’m about to leave the
hardest, sweetest two years of my life and move on to who knows what. My
emotions are all jumbled; I’m reeling in pain from leaving forty-some kids that
I’ve grown to love so much, but I’m cautiously excited about my new life in the
city.
At this emotionally-charged crossroads,
it’s so easy to wander down the what-if path. I think of what would have
happened if I had never come, what would happen if I chose to move somewhere
else, what would have happened if I had done things differently while in Mexico . As I
wonder, I think about the different blessings found in each what-if, usually
the relationships. What if I were still near my family? What if I were close to
this friend? What if I had loved more selflessly?
All the while, a growing
frustration builds up inside, waiting until full to dump its load. But even
when I finally break down and talk about it or cry, the frustration isn’t
satisfied. I still do not have what I’ve been longing for and I still am not
content with my future. My heart searches for fulfillment in every imaginary
alternate universe in which some of my wildest dreams come true and it comes up
empty. Every what-if is an attempt to find satisfaction in something other than
God’s perfect plan.
Deep down, I know that while I
could have chosen any of the paths spread before me, I never would have. In all
of my decisions, I acted completely in character.
Within every what-if, there are
desired blessings coupled with natural consequences. If I had stayed with my
family in Virginia ,
I never would have met nor loved E—, C—, G—, A—, and on the list goes with
names and faces. If I had moved to a different city, I wouldn’t have the
incredible privilege of being a bridge between two cultures. If I had loved
more selflessly, my time here might not be up. On every side, I am required to
sacrifice something.
When I investigate the what-ifs, I
seek to find the least of all evils. My secret hope is that the current
trajectory of my life will be the least painful, and therefore by default, the
best. But loving something for being the least bad is no sort of love. It’s a
dull resignation. It’s a gloomy fulfillment of duty. No wonder it doesn’t
satisfy my frustrations.
If I’m to find any joy in my
unchartered future, I need to love something, not least-hate something. As I
survey my future, the only thing worth loving and pinning my hopes to is God.
Every beautiful part of my new life has its joys and sorrows. Being in El Paso means not being in Mexico
or Virginia .
Being a bridge between two cultures means not belonging completely to either.
Being in school means doing homework. Only in God does every undesirable trait
find value. Being in El Paso
means being part of the exciting advance of the gospel in that city. Being a
bridge between two cultures means being Jesus’ radical love. Being in school
means learning tools to continue God’s work. With the glorification of Christ
as the outcome of every sacrifice, it all becomes worth it, because for so many
innumerable reasons, Christ is worth it all.
