ch-ch-changes

wow.  it has really been over a year since i had any sort of inspiration to write on here.  or maybe it's from lack of time.  or maybe (which is a more likely scenario) i'm just lazy and find other things to do than to sit here and write on this thing.  either way, recently, i was hit with something that really got the ole juices flowing, if you will.  this post is a very personal one, as it is something that strikes at the very core of my being.  last weekend, i spent saturday at my parents' house in mississippi, helping them move out of their house of 28 years, into a new house.  one part of me is excited for them, as their old neighborhood has really gone down in recent years, and was getting to where it was no longer safe.  however, as i stood in that old house, now devoid of furnishings and pictures that made it the home i remembered, a sadness fell on me like a heavy blanket.  memories came flooding back like gusts of wind, each stronger than the previous.  i know that my parents have their own memories made in that house, but these memories were mine.  memories of holidays spent with family seemed to materialize in front of me.  i can still see the CHRISTmas tree in the corner by the kitchen, and the bar in the kitchen filled to overflowing with dishes during thanksgiving.  i remember the first time i walked into the house, and the dining room and my parents' room were still one room.  the memory of past friends coming over, of sitting in my room on the phone with my girlfriend (now my wife) and even of sitting outside in the driveway in the car after one of our dates just talking (because mom and dad were right inside and probably looking out the window!) are all wrapped up in that house.  it was the house that i came home to every weekend when i was away from college.  it was the house that i watched in my rearview mirror with my mom at the door watching me drive off as i left for seminary each time.  it was always home for me, and now it was empty.  it was just a house.  a chapter of my life was closing, and it was bittersweet.  and there have been a few things that i have learned through this seemingly simple transition between houses. 

i'm not a person who likes change.  i usually eat one of three things for breakfast every morning; the same goes for lunch.  i still dress very similar to the way i did in high school, and i still like the same style of music.  heck, i married the girl i loved in high school!  i even get all discombobulated when someone is in "my" stall in the bathroom at work when i go in to talk to the man about a dog!  i don't like change, and i resist it with every fiber of my being.  so this was one change that was difficult for me.  i'll probably still try to drive to their old house when i go to visit them, until it finally sets in that it is no longer their house.  being military, change is a natural occurrence for me, as there is always a new mission, a new duty station, a new billet, a new boss, new co-workers; and little constants like a familiar house to call home are but small anchor points that help keep me grounded, which is why i stood there in that empty house looking around with a sense of sadness.  as humans, we all are resistant to change in some manner or fashion.  we like stability and routine, because it gives us a sense of control of our world.  and when we do that, there is a temptation to stop relying on God.  it becomes evident when a small change upends our world, sending us into a tailspin, and major changes cause even more havoc.  that's because change involves the unknown, and thus the root cause of resistance to change is a fear of the unknown.  there are many times we look at the variables and we start to doubt ourselves and fall back into our "safe" routine, because of that fear of the unknown.  we are like the spies sent into the promised land, who came back speaking of giants and imminent failure.  we are like the israelites who longed for the whip of pharaoh instead of wandering in the wilderness, because it was familiar.  we are like john mark, who left paul and barnabas to return to the safety of home.  this complacency is what causes the abused to remain with their tormentors.  this false sense of control is what causes the person with an amazing ability or talent to keep it from the world.  this fear of change is what causes the person called by God to do amazing things to never leave their local church because of the resistance to change and the fear of the unknown.  i still remember the knot in my stomach watching my parents drive away, leaving me in north carolina, 14 hours away from home, saying to myself if they came back, i would go back home with them and forget this seminary stuff.  change is scary.  especially when we don't fully trust God.

as i stood there in that empty house, it occurred to me that it was just a house.  so why was i so sad?  what was it that made it a home?  was it the "stuff" that was in it, that was now absent?  was it the familiarity of everything?  was it the people that made it a home, and if so, why did the new house feel different even though the same people were in it?  was it the memories made there?  or was it something else?  i postulate that it was all of the above.  and there are many times we can get so caught up in the familiarity of our surroundings and cherishing the past memories, that we can get stuck there and never venture out to make new memories.  we desperately try to cling to those old memories, but always to futility, as it is like trying to hold on to a cloud.  it is said that a person never steps in the same river twice, because the water is always flowing, ever changing the riverbed.  and so it is with memories and the familiar.  time changes everything, and soon, the memories fade and the familiar becomes unfamiliar.  clarksdale has not been the town i grew up in for some time now, but i always go back and i try to find it, whether that be in a meal at abe's or chicken on a stick from double quick, or while riding through the neighborhoods i grew up in which now are unrecognizable, or looking for a school that is now empty and partially demolished.  my bride laughs at me whenever we go back, because she sees me looking around at everything, trying to find that semblance of normalcy, of familiarity, of home.  and it's not there.  because it is no longer the home i remember, no matter how much i want it to be.  we can be guilty of the same thing in our spiritual walk.  too often, as CHRISTians, we try so hard to make this world our home that we lose sight of the eternal because of the temporal.  we become like demas, who, as paul said, loved this present world more than the next.  we in essence create idols out of the things of this world, and place them above God in our lives.  somebody once told me that the greatest enemy of the best is the good, because many times we will settle for the good and miss out on the best.  family, homes, memories, are all good things, but if we place them above God's desires, they become the enemy of His best, and we miss out on it.  an old (and i emphasize "old"!) youth pastor once said, "there's no happier place to be than right smack dab in the middle of God's will."  that is so true, and sometimes that means following His call on our lives, even if it removes us from everything that is comfortable and forces us to find our happiness and our solace in Him, instead of in a place, or people, or things.  we just have to remember that this world is not our home, and we are aliens in a strange land, and no matter how much we try to make this world our home, it is a paltry substitution for what awaits the believer. 

time waits for no one, and the time for change is always one minute away, so to prepare for those waves of change that come crashing into us with capsizing force, it is best to keep our lives anchored on the rock of CHRIST, whom the wind and the waves obey.  sure, we may be sad as we lose sight of familiar shores and sail into the unknown, but the joy that waits for us on the other side will eclipse the joys that we left behind to follow God's bearing.  i may still ride past that old house, as i do all the other familiar places of my past, and i may smile at the memories they call to mind whilst my bride looks on amusingly, but i know that my Saviour, whom i trust implicitly, has a place prepared for me, and my prayer is that i never get to the point that i love this present world more than the next.  there comes a time to shut the door one last time, and move on and never look back.  we read what happened to lot's wife when she looked back, longing for the past.  after all, he who puts his hand to the plow and looks back is not ready for the kingdom of heaven.