onward
This is my temporary home
It's not where I belong
Windows and rooms that I'm passing through
This is just a stop, on the way to where I'm going
I'm not afraid because I know this is my
Temporary Home.
One of the most popular songs on Carrie Underwood's (kind of) new "Play On" album, this song has become one that really characterizes the attitude I am yearning and learning to attain. With my school program coming to an end and my impending move back home arriving faster by the day, I've been spending a good amount of time reflecting on what it will mean for me to go home and face the many demons of my past that I sometimes think I will end up finding back there.
Now, don't get me wrong, I am excited to go home soon, and rightfully so. I have tons of good friends, a church community I am eager to jump into, and a brand new (and now very fat) nephew to play with the minute I arrive back in the Bay Area for good. But there is something about "going back" that I have never had to deal with because I have always left. I left Cupertino, I left San Diego, I left a number of churches, I left a bunch of unresolved but broken relationships, and I left somewhat abruptly after three years of college. Though I understand that leaving means that you have to head towards somewhere, my focus has always been on avoiding the place from which I am going.
But at this stage, I am seeing that I have left too many broken pieces of myself along this path to "finding" where I think I belong, only to realize that it's where I left in the first place. It's hard for me not to see the irony in me preparing to return to where I grew up and was raised geographically and spiritually in returning to fourth home. So now, I have no choice but to turn around, stare at the shards lying next to my footprints on the dirt path, grab a bag and start collecting.
As I began to "collect" these pieces, so to speak, I felt a mounting sense of worry and terror in the prospect of having to face them. Not only will I have to take note of and look at these millions of pieces, amazed at how quickly I shed parts of myself that I used to think were so crucial, but I'd have to think long and hard about where in myself this or that piece goes. Thinking long and hard means I'd need to remember, and most likely re-feel what it was like for me when I had dropped this piece on the ground. No, not dropped. Knowing me, I had most likely ripped it out of myself painfully, smashed it onto the ground in frustration and kicked it around before continuing on my way.
I think pretty much anyone who hung out with me over break would have noticed my seemingly incessant need to talk about myself and about what was going to happen in May, to some a mere four months away and to others a long four months away. Since it was the first time for me to go home since it was confirmed that I would be moving back, I had a million thoughts and worries in my head, and not once did I think of going to God himself about them.
But wasn't Paul the one who renamed himself and looked beyond his past, and then became the one who said, that though he has not yet obtained resurrection from the dead, or has already been made perfect, but yet he will press on to take hold of that for which Christ Jesus took hold of him? I think that is what makes the song above and others like it so comforting for me. As I am looking back and faced with my past, I can look beyond it and understand that, while God does not want me to disregard and ignore the hurts and bitterness that has developed within me, that's not the point.
The point of God is not so that he can force our heads into the dung of our sins, guilt, and trespasses and rub our faces into it. Instead, I have come to realize that he's there saying, "Well, this is quite a mess. Let's clean this up so we can move on, shall we?" I am not cleaning up my mess for the sake of keeping things clean, I am cleaning it up for the sake of pressing on towards the goal of heaven and all that is in store for me there.
With this comes a certain understanding that, truly, this world in which I live, whether it be in the hustle bustle of the heart of New York City, smack dab in the swaying fields of Idaho, or in the buzz and innovation of Apple Inc's home and its new expensive toys, is a temporary home. I have something far greater to look forward to, and what I need to now understand is that, like Paul, I do not consider myself yet to have taken hold of it. But his writings lead me to know that what is necessary is forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, pressing on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus.
But, you may ask, what is this prize? Well, I'm still learning to uncover it day by day. But if this promise comes from the God who has loved me so well all these years, I have faith enough to know that it will be out of this world.
It's not where I belong
Windows and rooms that I'm passing through
This is just a stop, on the way to where I'm going
I'm not afraid because I know this is my
Temporary Home.
One of the most popular songs on Carrie Underwood's (kind of) new "Play On" album, this song has become one that really characterizes the attitude I am yearning and learning to attain. With my school program coming to an end and my impending move back home arriving faster by the day, I've been spending a good amount of time reflecting on what it will mean for me to go home and face the many demons of my past that I sometimes think I will end up finding back there.
Now, don't get me wrong, I am excited to go home soon, and rightfully so. I have tons of good friends, a church community I am eager to jump into, and a brand new (and now very fat) nephew to play with the minute I arrive back in the Bay Area for good. But there is something about "going back" that I have never had to deal with because I have always left. I left Cupertino, I left San Diego, I left a number of churches, I left a bunch of unresolved but broken relationships, and I left somewhat abruptly after three years of college. Though I understand that leaving means that you have to head towards somewhere, my focus has always been on avoiding the place from which I am going.
But at this stage, I am seeing that I have left too many broken pieces of myself along this path to "finding" where I think I belong, only to realize that it's where I left in the first place. It's hard for me not to see the irony in me preparing to return to where I grew up and was raised geographically and spiritually in returning to fourth home. So now, I have no choice but to turn around, stare at the shards lying next to my footprints on the dirt path, grab a bag and start collecting.
As I began to "collect" these pieces, so to speak, I felt a mounting sense of worry and terror in the prospect of having to face them. Not only will I have to take note of and look at these millions of pieces, amazed at how quickly I shed parts of myself that I used to think were so crucial, but I'd have to think long and hard about where in myself this or that piece goes. Thinking long and hard means I'd need to remember, and most likely re-feel what it was like for me when I had dropped this piece on the ground. No, not dropped. Knowing me, I had most likely ripped it out of myself painfully, smashed it onto the ground in frustration and kicked it around before continuing on my way.
I think pretty much anyone who hung out with me over break would have noticed my seemingly incessant need to talk about myself and about what was going to happen in May, to some a mere four months away and to others a long four months away. Since it was the first time for me to go home since it was confirmed that I would be moving back, I had a million thoughts and worries in my head, and not once did I think of going to God himself about them.
But wasn't Paul the one who renamed himself and looked beyond his past, and then became the one who said, that though he has not yet obtained resurrection from the dead, or has already been made perfect, but yet he will press on to take hold of that for which Christ Jesus took hold of him? I think that is what makes the song above and others like it so comforting for me. As I am looking back and faced with my past, I can look beyond it and understand that, while God does not want me to disregard and ignore the hurts and bitterness that has developed within me, that's not the point.
The point of God is not so that he can force our heads into the dung of our sins, guilt, and trespasses and rub our faces into it. Instead, I have come to realize that he's there saying, "Well, this is quite a mess. Let's clean this up so we can move on, shall we?" I am not cleaning up my mess for the sake of keeping things clean, I am cleaning it up for the sake of pressing on towards the goal of heaven and all that is in store for me there.
With this comes a certain understanding that, truly, this world in which I live, whether it be in the hustle bustle of the heart of New York City, smack dab in the swaying fields of Idaho, or in the buzz and innovation of Apple Inc's home and its new expensive toys, is a temporary home. I have something far greater to look forward to, and what I need to now understand is that, like Paul, I do not consider myself yet to have taken hold of it. But his writings lead me to know that what is necessary is forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, pressing on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus.
But, you may ask, what is this prize? Well, I'm still learning to uncover it day by day. But if this promise comes from the God who has loved me so well all these years, I have faith enough to know that it will be out of this world.