jumping right in...

"Wow, honey," my mom exclaimed as she pulled out of our subdivision and drove to my carpool buddy's house, "I'm taking you to your third first day of school!"

It's true. My first day of class at grad school. Mom had taken me to my first day of school as a kindergartner, as a college student, and now as an MDiv student. I guess I'm just a momma's boy.

It's July 13th, and I'm in school. This is my first taste of summer education, as I dive into a six-week intensive Greek course to prepare myself for a semester full of theological learning. It's a ton of work, but it's actually rather exciting. I really enjoy learning the "guts" of a new language, especially the language of God's self-revelation. It's stimulating my brain and occupying the majority of my time.

Kenosha is treating me well, especially the lake. Lake Michigan is beautiful and majestic, with ocean-like character. We sailed on Saturday with some friends, and I was struck with Psalm 36's description of God's judgments: "like the great deep." Praise God for his wide, unknowable mysteries revealed in the person of his Son.

the world between the worlds (farewell to Parral)

The past two days found me enjoying the hospitality of an elderly missionary couple in El Paso, TX, after having been picked up at the bus station in Juárez on the night of the 2nd. We crossed the border without difficulty (except for a few apples confiscated by the officials), and ate a late-night snack before hitting the hay. David, Kristen, and Kim all flew out yesterday morning, and I stayed with Carolyn and Freeman, my elderly hosts. I spent the night at their house last night (the 3rd), and am now sitting in the El Paso airport, awaiting my direct flight to O’Hare at 1:55 pm.

The title of this post is drawn from The Magician’s Nephew, when Digory and Polly find themselves launched into a “middle world,” a forest land filled with little pools that lead to other worlds. Using their magic rings, they discover that they can jump in and out of different worlds: England, accursed Charn, Narnia, or a multitude of unknown others.

It is a good metaphor for this “middle ground” I tread at the moment, suspended between Parral’s world of teaching, service, familiarity with injustice and poverty, Mexican cultural norms, and Spanish and the new world that awaits me: American wealth, convenience, academia, relative comfort, and a new church body to love and serve.

As I paused at my host’s home, I spent a great deal of time in quiet solitude, reading and writing, even composing a new song from Psalm 31 on my guitar. It’s been a long time since I’ve had so much quiet. The Lord guided my thoughts to the recent past which was full of activity at church and school, preparing for graduation, packing up my stuff, saying hard goodbyes and promising to keep in touch. Then I find myself climbing out of that pool, soaked with clinging memories, and I stand up in a quiet place, staring at a new pool. I see the hazy images of Lake Michigan, my parents’ home, my church, Trinity’s campus, and even hazier possibilities of future plans and aspirations.

I mentally prepare for the transition, hoping the old pool will still be accessible in my mind’s eye, and start to wade in. A roar of jet engines fills my ears, promising a new adventure of light and shadow, triumphs and challenges, new discoveries and relationships. Hoping the mist will soon become clear, I dive fully in, trusting in the deep magic that sent me into that old world in the first place, back out, and into the newness that awaits me.