The trip home

I know I usually write things that somehow tie back in to a bigger reality in life but tonight I’m just writing because I want too. Or, as Oscar Wilde would say, “Art for the sake of art.”

We had our first snow fall of the season in the Metro area today, none of it stuck but it’s obvious that nature is serving notice that summer is on its way out and winter is fast approaching. In the mean time we’re stuck in that beautiful purgatory known as autumn where the world is momentarily suspended between the two stark contrasts of blazing heat, and freezing cold. Fall is probably my favorite time of year not because of the changing colors of the leaves but because of the unique feel in the air. There’s a certain chill in the breeze that only happens this time of year that makes me feel more alive and self aware. It seeps down deep into the marrow of my bones until I feel like I’ve ceased to exist and melted into the world around me, walking across campus with the granite mountains of the Rockies behind me and the concrete mountains of downtown before of me. The sounds of helicopters and airplanes flying overhead with only the flashing of their lights set against the night sky to alert you to their physical location. On the bus you can listen to the ebb and flow of conversation, the various accents from all over the world occasionally punctured by bursts of laughter reminding us of our common humanity regardless of where, or what, we call home. I get off at my stop and melt back into the chill of fall as I walk past Tommy’s Thai food, Enzo’s End pizzeria; with a bar strait out of Hopper’s “Nighthawks”, and the flower shop with gang signs carved into the grills of the air conditioner units hanging out of the windows. The white Christmas lights wrapped around Bastien’s wink at me from across the street welcoming me home after a long day of classes. I admire the tiny plants growing up between the cracks in the asphalt refusing to be choked out by the world around them not caring that the world considers them weeds that are simply a nuisance, bent on surviving in their adverse circumstances. As I turn the corner I look at the half burnt-out Monroe Liquor Store sign, with its chipped white paint and think that it looks like something from a grainy black and white photo that somehow got stuck in the wrong era. An artifact from the analog years comically cast in the digital age, a subtle reminder of where we came from. A time when typewriters, records, and Polaroid’s reigned supreme never dreaming that they’d be replaced by computers, MP3 players, and digital cameras. While all this is still tumbling through my mind I slowly climb the stairs to my apartment, turn the key in the lock, step into the warm air of my artificial environment, and hit the reset button on reality.

Markers along the way

I think it's important for people to have mementos from important moments in their life. Birth certificates, diplomas, wedding rings, these are all reminders of significant events in our lives. For Christians it's also important to have things that remind us of the times in our spiritual lives that God provided for us in unforeseen and amazing ways. We see this repeatedly throughout the Bible, especially the Old Testament. After their miraculous crossing of the Jordan river the Israelites set up a stone memorial to remind them of what God had done for them there. (Josh 4:20-24) In fact in the book of Joshua alone the Israelites set up seven memorials to remind them of important moments in their history. (Josh 4:20-24, 7:26, 8:28-29, 8:32, 10:27, 22:34, 24:26-27)

In my own life there are things that are markers of times God has worked, for, in, and through me. Anytime I see a Pizza Hut I'm reminded of my salvation and the joy and freedom I have in that. My charcoal and navy blue fleece is a reminder of my mission trip to Vietnam, what I saw God do there, and that I'm supposed to live as a missionary where I am. My newest marker (and the one that prompted this post) is the skyline of Denver and the Rockies. I was driving home last night from Buffalo Wild Wings and came over the crest of a hill and there below me was Denver. Between the street lights, the skyscrapers, and headlights, it looked like a giant living Christmas tree. I was reminded of everything God had done on my behalf for me to arrive here. An Air Guard recruiter so determined to fill slots that he looks through the IRR records to find people in those career fields, the only one in Colorado who does that. A new GI Bill that provides me with the income I need to live here. Putting me in touch with an Acts 29 church that's not even a year old yet, thus making it the perfect learning opportunity for me. Helping me find and sign for an apartment in less then a week that "just happens" to only be three and a half miles from where I go to school and church. Those are just some of the things I'm reminded of when I see the Qwest building, or The Flatirons. I smile, laugh, and thank God for providing for me far beyond what I deserve in spite of the fact that I never have, and never will, do anything to deserve it.

These are some of mine, I would encourage you to stop and take a few minutes to think about times God has moved mightily on your behalf and what some things are that remind you of that. Because there will be times that you'll feel forsaken and need those things to remind you that the God who was with you then is still with you now.