I find it more than a little ironic that this first post is being written while away from home. Tomorrow marks 4 weeks that I'll have been gone, waiting to return to Riga until I receive my residence permit. At the moment I'm in England, staying with some friends in Southampton. I used to live here - in the same house I'm currently staying in, as a matter of fact - so the place and people are familiar, warm, comfortable.
Which is actually kind of a problem.
You see, if this was a difficult place to be, then it would help to intensify my longing to return to Riga. As it is, this is a very easy place and lifestyle to slip back into. I've got friends here to spend time with, people I've been involved in discipling to start meeting up with again, church to go to, prayer meetings to attend, late-night games of Settlers of Catan to be played. I know how to do life in England. I'm even borderline competent at it.
But,
(there always is a but),
this is not my home.
This - for now - is where I have to be. But it's not where I'm meant to stay. The decision to come here was one of necessity, not of desire or direction. Despite that, the time here has been a blessing. I've been forced to slow down, disengage from the world slightly, and enjoy the grace and peace that can be found in solitude and community.
The danger is that in the fields of our life freshly plowed by rest, seeds of complacency can easily take root.
Last Sunday, I heard a message out of the book of Haggai. It's not exactly the most popular or well-known book in the canon of scripture, but it's one that I've happened to spend a fair amount of time reading and studying in the past. One of the major themes from the book is a warning to the Israelites against the dangers of complacency. They had just begun to resettle their former homeland, after returning from several decades of exile in a foreign country. Once they returned, their focus was on themselves; their houses, their crops, their land, their businesses and possessions. Haggai spoke to them from the Lord to remind them to put the Lord first, and to signify their intention to do so by rebuilding the temple before their homes, businesses, and fields were finished.
I've spent a lot of time and effort over the past few years waiting for the chance to move to Riga and begin this next phase of my journey. My "hoping and longing" muscles have gotten a good workout along the way, which has been at times a source of frustration and at times one of joy and strength. Perhaps I subconsciously thought that once I arrived in Riga, everything would get easy and the road would straighten out and the dips and bends and roadblocks I'd experienced to that point would be nonexistent in the miles ahead.
Silly me.
This is yet another chance to consider trouble an "opportunity for great joy," and testing of faith as a catalyst towards becoming "perfect and complete, needing nothing" (James 1).
This is a chance to "hope and long" yet some more. Which I do. Imperfectly and incompletely, and constantly in danger of succumbing to the siren song of complacency towards the road often traveled.
And in the midst of all of this, the call to "rebuild the house of the Lord," to refurbish His dwelling place within my life, resounds strongly. The call is always first towards Christ, and becoming a fully devoted follower of Him. An what better time and place to do so when the "pause" button on life's remote control has been firmly pressed?
And so, I wait. Maybe tomorrow my paperwork will come. Maybe the day after that. Until it does, I continue to hope and long for a swift return to the country where I've chosen to make my home for the next few years. Make it happen, Lord, and make it happen soon!
Which is actually kind of a problem.
You see, if this was a difficult place to be, then it would help to intensify my longing to return to Riga. As it is, this is a very easy place and lifestyle to slip back into. I've got friends here to spend time with, people I've been involved in discipling to start meeting up with again, church to go to, prayer meetings to attend, late-night games of Settlers of Catan to be played. I know how to do life in England. I'm even borderline competent at it.
But,
(there always is a but),
this is not my home.
This - for now - is where I have to be. But it's not where I'm meant to stay. The decision to come here was one of necessity, not of desire or direction. Despite that, the time here has been a blessing. I've been forced to slow down, disengage from the world slightly, and enjoy the grace and peace that can be found in solitude and community.
The danger is that in the fields of our life freshly plowed by rest, seeds of complacency can easily take root.
Last Sunday, I heard a message out of the book of Haggai. It's not exactly the most popular or well-known book in the canon of scripture, but it's one that I've happened to spend a fair amount of time reading and studying in the past. One of the major themes from the book is a warning to the Israelites against the dangers of complacency. They had just begun to resettle their former homeland, after returning from several decades of exile in a foreign country. Once they returned, their focus was on themselves; their houses, their crops, their land, their businesses and possessions. Haggai spoke to them from the Lord to remind them to put the Lord first, and to signify their intention to do so by rebuilding the temple before their homes, businesses, and fields were finished.
I've spent a lot of time and effort over the past few years waiting for the chance to move to Riga and begin this next phase of my journey. My "hoping and longing" muscles have gotten a good workout along the way, which has been at times a source of frustration and at times one of joy and strength. Perhaps I subconsciously thought that once I arrived in Riga, everything would get easy and the road would straighten out and the dips and bends and roadblocks I'd experienced to that point would be nonexistent in the miles ahead.
Silly me.
This is yet another chance to consider trouble an "opportunity for great joy," and testing of faith as a catalyst towards becoming "perfect and complete, needing nothing" (James 1).
This is a chance to "hope and long" yet some more. Which I do. Imperfectly and incompletely, and constantly in danger of succumbing to the siren song of complacency towards the road often traveled.
And in the midst of all of this, the call to "rebuild the house of the Lord," to refurbish His dwelling place within my life, resounds strongly. The call is always first towards Christ, and becoming a fully devoted follower of Him. An what better time and place to do so when the "pause" button on life's remote control has been firmly pressed?
And so, I wait. Maybe tomorrow my paperwork will come. Maybe the day after that. Until it does, I continue to hope and long for a swift return to the country where I've chosen to make my home for the next few years. Make it happen, Lord, and make it happen soon!