I sit here.
Quietly.
Reflecting.
Procrastinating on packing the last of my possessions.
Four years in this apartment, I'm closing a very sweet chapter of life.
A chapter that has taught me much about love and loss.
And friendship and forbearance.
In these four years, I have had the pleasure of experiencing Christ-like community in way that I'm not sure can ever be replicated.
So many tears and prayers and laughs these walls have heard.
Parties and potlucks, brunches with the pals, the've been endless.
Life-long friendships have been cultivated here through good conversations, and hard ones too.
Yet. While this little corner of the world has been a refuge, a space I call home, it's not really.
Life, it's so short, so fleeting. So temporary.
My flesh wants to hold on and create a kingdom here. But what my heart truly desires is for this to be a beautiful reminder to me that I am an alien, an exile in this world. (1 Peter 2:11). To make me long for a better place where there will be no mourning or fear or doubt or instability or questions. It will all be about Jesus.
"Beloved, we are God's children now, and what we will be has not yet appeared; but we know that when he appears we shall be like him, because we shall see him as he is." - 1 John 3:2
To the world the days ahead seem dim, yet the future has never, ever been brighter.
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