"How we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives."
-Annie Dillard
Most of my life has been spent finding my driving purpose for living. I want to be significant...to make a difference...to do something that lasts. I've thought this "calling" was various things at different seasons in my life. Specifically, upon discovering my passion for translating Greek in college, I believed that my purpose was to go to the most primitive people groups in the most dangerous of countries and create a language for them to be able to receive the New Testament. In the late summer of 2011, Kellen and I moved to Louisville to go to Southern Seminary in order to study languages and pursue this endeavor.
Although our path did not continue down the route of Linguistic studies, this time in Kentucky was some of our most life-changing years. We were able to take classes together and enjoy the processes of studying, learning and growing academically and spiritually. We were beyond blessed to be a part of the family at Sojourn Church and to learn under amazing pastors and teachers there. Kellen was able to teach at a prestigious Latin school, which he enjoyed immensely, and I was able to manage a coffee shop in the same community. We lived within walking distance from school and work, in the sweetest and quaintest little village of the city. The regulars at my coffee shop were also my neighbors, the servers where we ate and the merchants where we shopped. It was a magical time of life where we learned to simply appreciate each other and got to know some amazing people.
More than anything, though, the greatest part of our time in Louisville was grasping more of the gospel, of what Christ has done, and how I can rest in that identity. I always knew that I was saved by grace, but this season away allowed me to really understand the beauty and freedom of it all. I don't have to do something glamorous with my life. I don't have to translate the Bible. I don't have to live in a foreign country in a straw hut for God to love me and accept me. For most people, these are obvious statements. But for me, the mark of people-pleasing ran so deep, it tremendously affected me and even my relationship with God. I constantly felt the weight of needing to earn his approval, just like I did for everyone else. International missions is such a good thing, and I would love for my family to devote our efforts to that in more ways than merely financial, but God does not love me based on what I do, but based on what Christ has done. It is finished. I have complete approval from our Father in Christ. All praise to the riches of his glorious grace!
About a year before we moved to Louisville, I was introduced to a writer named Wendell Berry. He largely influenced our decision to move to the Bluegrass state in the first place, and then helped in the decision to move back home. Mr. Berry is a farmer and poet who lives in Northern Kentucky and documents the simple beauty of commitment to community, God, the local economy and agriculture. His writings inspired my love for creation and neighbor and challenged my desires for wanderlust, independence and liberty. Instead, his prose depicts family farms with deeply integrated communities that are extremely dedicated to one another. They celebrate together, suffer together, and stay together. There is a poignant dependency in his philosophy that my desire for adventure lacked. Not that Berry advocates for a dull life, not at all. It's just not adventurous in the pack-up-get-out-of-town sense that for so long I believed to be the way my life would have meaning. No, Berry fights for the adventure of sinking in, putting roots deep, establishing life for the long haul where you are, and using your imagination, creativity, and hard work to make it beautiful. Wendell Berry's words slowly reined me in to understand the risk and thrill of having a sense of place.
Kellen and I were able to meet Mr. Berry a few times. One of these treasured occasions was in February of 2012 when we heard him speak at the University of Louisville to their medical students. At the end of the lecture there was a time for questions and his answer to one question in particular affected me greatly and still remains with me. The student asked Mr. Berry, "What should we do to help the next generation flourish in their communities?" And, as he does, he looked upon the crowd with a peaceful gaze, his eyes shinning with joy, and slowly responded: "Give them grandparents. Give the aunts and uncles and cousins. And when they run, because they will run, they have safe places to go."
So we moved back to Georgia. We live in the town where we both grew up and met and where most of our families still live. We work at a school and care about our students. We have a small homestead with chickens, goats, and bees. We serve at our local church and raise our kids. We seek to live a simple life, investing in the people and earth around us, and try to live lightly and sustainably. Many people would say, and at one time even I would have said, that our life is boring. There is definitely nothing glamorous about it. I doubt anyone will write a book about us and I certainly don't think I'm changing the world. But have I found my purpose? Yes! Totally. It's nothing specific and there's no complicated equation or self-discovery sojourn to discover it: I am learning to completely rest in the gospel of Christ and am seeking to be faithful to whatever God brings. That is the good life, the full life...a life well lived...exemplifying the double love of God and man and learning to appropriate that to every day living.
Take for example, being near family. Living in Kentucky away from everyone we knew was exciting and invigorating. I mean, I missed my family, but it was nice being around people who didn't know me and the little brat I was as a child. But your family knows all your junk. You can't hide from them. Now I live really close to them and we see them on a weekly, sometimes daily, basis. It's easy to neglect the ministry of mercy to our own families. We can be super pumped up about helping people around the globe in their need, but gloss over our own parents or siblings who are suffering. But by being a consistent part of their life, bearing with them and them bearing with me, we can be conduits of God's grace given to us in Christ in a real way. There is a natural vulnerability amongst family and, although this is sometimes utilized in manipulative ways, can be and should be a very redemptive situation.
Therefore, I encourage you as I encourage myself: be present where you are; be faithful to whatever it is that God has placed before you. Choose daily commitment to people, daily commitment to the earth, and daily commitment to the Lord over how you feel or what is convenient. Don't assume you are meant to be somewhere else. Don't succumb to the temptation of escapism in any form. Don't discredit the small, seemingly insignificant and mundane acts. Don't hide from people. Your presence is important, your work is valuable, and your relationships are the greatest investments you will ever make.
Let us daily seek to grasp more about what God has done for us in Christ, and may that truth deeply affect us and connect us. In that mysterious, magnificent, and meaningful process is a life well lived.
Although our path did not continue down the route of Linguistic studies, this time in Kentucky was some of our most life-changing years. We were able to take classes together and enjoy the processes of studying, learning and growing academically and spiritually. We were beyond blessed to be a part of the family at Sojourn Church and to learn under amazing pastors and teachers there. Kellen was able to teach at a prestigious Latin school, which he enjoyed immensely, and I was able to manage a coffee shop in the same community. We lived within walking distance from school and work, in the sweetest and quaintest little village of the city. The regulars at my coffee shop were also my neighbors, the servers where we ate and the merchants where we shopped. It was a magical time of life where we learned to simply appreciate each other and got to know some amazing people.
More than anything, though, the greatest part of our time in Louisville was grasping more of the gospel, of what Christ has done, and how I can rest in that identity. I always knew that I was saved by grace, but this season away allowed me to really understand the beauty and freedom of it all. I don't have to do something glamorous with my life. I don't have to translate the Bible. I don't have to live in a foreign country in a straw hut for God to love me and accept me. For most people, these are obvious statements. But for me, the mark of people-pleasing ran so deep, it tremendously affected me and even my relationship with God. I constantly felt the weight of needing to earn his approval, just like I did for everyone else. International missions is such a good thing, and I would love for my family to devote our efforts to that in more ways than merely financial, but God does not love me based on what I do, but based on what Christ has done. It is finished. I have complete approval from our Father in Christ. All praise to the riches of his glorious grace!
About a year before we moved to Louisville, I was introduced to a writer named Wendell Berry. He largely influenced our decision to move to the Bluegrass state in the first place, and then helped in the decision to move back home. Mr. Berry is a farmer and poet who lives in Northern Kentucky and documents the simple beauty of commitment to community, God, the local economy and agriculture. His writings inspired my love for creation and neighbor and challenged my desires for wanderlust, independence and liberty. Instead, his prose depicts family farms with deeply integrated communities that are extremely dedicated to one another. They celebrate together, suffer together, and stay together. There is a poignant dependency in his philosophy that my desire for adventure lacked. Not that Berry advocates for a dull life, not at all. It's just not adventurous in the pack-up-get-out-of-town sense that for so long I believed to be the way my life would have meaning. No, Berry fights for the adventure of sinking in, putting roots deep, establishing life for the long haul where you are, and using your imagination, creativity, and hard work to make it beautiful. Wendell Berry's words slowly reined me in to understand the risk and thrill of having a sense of place.
Kellen and I were able to meet Mr. Berry a few times. One of these treasured occasions was in February of 2012 when we heard him speak at the University of Louisville to their medical students. At the end of the lecture there was a time for questions and his answer to one question in particular affected me greatly and still remains with me. The student asked Mr. Berry, "What should we do to help the next generation flourish in their communities?" And, as he does, he looked upon the crowd with a peaceful gaze, his eyes shinning with joy, and slowly responded: "Give them grandparents. Give the aunts and uncles and cousins. And when they run, because they will run, they have safe places to go."
So we moved back to Georgia. We live in the town where we both grew up and met and where most of our families still live. We work at a school and care about our students. We have a small homestead with chickens, goats, and bees. We serve at our local church and raise our kids. We seek to live a simple life, investing in the people and earth around us, and try to live lightly and sustainably. Many people would say, and at one time even I would have said, that our life is boring. There is definitely nothing glamorous about it. I doubt anyone will write a book about us and I certainly don't think I'm changing the world. But have I found my purpose? Yes! Totally. It's nothing specific and there's no complicated equation or self-discovery sojourn to discover it: I am learning to completely rest in the gospel of Christ and am seeking to be faithful to whatever God brings. That is the good life, the full life...a life well lived...exemplifying the double love of God and man and learning to appropriate that to every day living.
Take for example, being near family. Living in Kentucky away from everyone we knew was exciting and invigorating. I mean, I missed my family, but it was nice being around people who didn't know me and the little brat I was as a child. But your family knows all your junk. You can't hide from them. Now I live really close to them and we see them on a weekly, sometimes daily, basis. It's easy to neglect the ministry of mercy to our own families. We can be super pumped up about helping people around the globe in their need, but gloss over our own parents or siblings who are suffering. But by being a consistent part of their life, bearing with them and them bearing with me, we can be conduits of God's grace given to us in Christ in a real way. There is a natural vulnerability amongst family and, although this is sometimes utilized in manipulative ways, can be and should be a very redemptive situation.
Therefore, I encourage you as I encourage myself: be present where you are; be faithful to whatever it is that God has placed before you. Choose daily commitment to people, daily commitment to the earth, and daily commitment to the Lord over how you feel or what is convenient. Don't assume you are meant to be somewhere else. Don't succumb to the temptation of escapism in any form. Don't discredit the small, seemingly insignificant and mundane acts. Don't hide from people. Your presence is important, your work is valuable, and your relationships are the greatest investments you will ever make.
Let us daily seek to grasp more about what God has done for us in Christ, and may that truth deeply affect us and connect us. In that mysterious, magnificent, and meaningful process is a life well lived.
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