Right Here. Right Now

Two significant milestones happened this week.

One.  I passed the half way point.  Six weeks in and six weeks to go, as of Thursday, October 29th.  Seems surreal; like it's been forever since I've been home, but, wait, what?  That just might have been the fastest six weeks of my life that just blurred by!  And if the first six went so quickly, how will it go for this last half?  And how will I ever accomplish all that I've come to do with so little time left?

And by accomplish I mean....well, what do I mean?  I do have assignments to complete, learning objectives to fulfill, books to read.  But I think it's more the immersion thing I mean.  I feel I'm just now barely beginning to 'get' this.  Barely.  Just beginning.  So much more to know about these fascinating, still-mysterious-to-me people, even though this time has seen the deepening of relationships that I thought were already deep.   Still so much more to learn in order to hear and be heard, understand and be understood, even though I see some painfully slow improvement in language learning. 

As with every day, I am trying to release the march of time to the Creator of it; trying to be fully present in every moment.  Mark every moment, and not overthink the half way moment Thursday brought.

Another milestone.  As of today, November 1, 2015, I have been serving as Highview's Senior Pastor for ten years.  My ministry among this crazy-wonderful community goes back much further.  But in terms of the role I now have, that happened exactly ten years ago today when Highview made some significant changes and set a new course in a new way.  And even though I was part of the decision- making back then, it was not at that time my heart's preference, not at all.  The decision involved something I experienced as a deep loss, and a time of faltering uncertainty in my own competencies to lead in this new way. 

The months and even years between now and then have been buckets-full of surprises; some delightful, some excruciating.   There have been challenges and celebrations and horrors and wonders, and in it I have done a whole lot of clinging and praying and crying and growing and failing and getting back up again.  All the while marveling at the grace I'm offered in being allowed to serve my church the way I do.

And ten years ago I would never have made that defining decision myself, if left to my own devices.  But God knew what was needed, what else needed to happen instead of my small and selfish ideas about how my life should go.  He knew what was best for me, for Highview, and how it would spill over into something I never in a thousand decades would have imagined on my own.

Because it's a direct result of the changes made 10 years ago that I am here today.  There's a long and somewhat complicated story behind it, but it's true.  Without the changes that happened ten years ago, Highview would not have been put in contact with the sacred place of healing and truth and love that is Hot Springs. 

And I would not be here, marking the half way point in a three month stay.  And I would not have been exposed to one of my heart's most effective renovation plans, plans that are ongoing as God continues the work in me, and at Hot Springs, and at Highview that He's promised to complete.

It's Sunday morning as I write.  I hear the worship band rehearsing.  The boys just came to the kitchen to carry over the gigantic pot of soup that will be part of our community lunch later on.  I can hear Pi Dao giving some more instructions to set up lunch.  And I hear likely the earth's best sound; children's laughter, children who not that long ago didn't have very much to make them laugh. 

And somewhere between the house where I sit and the church building, I can hear Suradet singing a song of blessing, not knowing anyone in particular is listening.  But I am.  And I am blessed by it, accidentally as it were. Except nothing's an accident, is it? 

I mark these moments, right here, right now, happening as I type the words into the computer.  And it is worship to me.  To see God, glimpse Him like this.  To see it come together, like this.  I have to stop everything, for just a second.  Breathing even.  And just let my heart beat in utter confusion and wonder and joy-almost-painful, that somehow He would be so God for me, for my church, for this place -- all the time, but all these past ten years in particular.

I am full of love and fully loved this day.  No better place.  No better time.  Just right here.  Right now.