Mile Marker 30

I was teaching the boys about conjunctive adverbs (namely, sequencing words) by having them share a story about a toy school bus. I asked them, “Where all did it travel on its journey?” Max made it riveting, using the entire classroom as his stage.

“First, it jumped over this chair and onto the table. Then, it went up the piano. Next, it went through the tunnel {through the closet door handles}. After that, it drove up a slow mountain {along the back wall}. Next, it swam in the water {on blue text books}. Then, it went all the way to the moon {thrown up at the ceiling}!”

I was honestly impressed by his story. I was excited for the ending, as his eyes kept getting wider and wider as he told it. I prompted him, “Finally…”

He proceeded to make the bus do slow flips in the air, until it came crashing to the ground, on its side. He made several explosion noises before he announced, “Finally, it died.” I couldn’t help but laugh in disbelief. I wasn’t expecting that.

Yet another part of me was saddened by the tragic ending. That brave little bus made it all the way to the moon and back! Why not arrive home to a hero’s welcome? But, after thinking about it a little more, I thought to myself: “Maybe I shouldn’t be so distraught by the final outcome that I overlook the amazing stops along the way. That bus just had the ride of its life! It could have just stayed parked and let its engine rust.”

…

This Sunday, June 20th, I turn 30 years old. Well, by the Western calendar, I will be 29. In Korea, they count the time in your mother’s womb as 1 year. So, when you are born, you are already 1. I think that’s a beautiful thing—to embrace the truth that life begins at conception, not birth (even if it means entering my 30’s a year sooner than expected).

Something about Max’s story and my looming birthday made me very thankful for the adventure that my life has been thus far. I know it’s still a relatively young journey, but it has not been short on mileage. I have had stops on almost every continent now. I have come quite a distance since leaving Crawford, TX (population 625).

My friend and pastor Matt Chandler shared a beautiful passage (and scriptural promise) at our decompression retreat, after our team returned from China. It was Luke 18:28-30, which reads: “And Peter said, ‘See, we have left our homes and followed you.’ And he said to them, ‘Truly, I say to you, there is no one who has left house or wife or brothers or parents or children, for the sake of the kingdom of God, who will not receive many times more in this time, and in the age to come eternal life.’” Matt said that, when we are obedient to follow, God blesses us with “family” all over the globe. Our “homes” are multiplied, and our joy is increased while we wait for eternity.

One of my most recent “homes” was located at 3806 Elizabeth in Carrollton, TX. It didn’t belong to me. It was a generous blessing of rent-free living from an amazing couple (whom I had the joy of marrying several years ago) while I waited on the Lord to reveal the next stretch of the highway. In the bathroom, there was a placard that read: “Count your age by friends, not years. Count your life by smiles, not tears.”

In that way, I am a very old man! So many kindred spirits have coached me, run with me, refreshed me, and sometimes even carried me for various legs of my race. I am truly blessed with family all over the world. And, my life has indeed been “rich” if you count the smiles. I have had some sorrow. But it pales compared to the joy.

Yet I have an enduring sense that my final destination is somewhere other than earth. I can never get too comfortable with the view from here or feel that I fully belong, lest I mistake this hotel of a planet for my dream home in heaven. As C.S. Lewis once wrote, “If I find in myself desires which nothing in this world can satisfy, the only logical explanation is that I was made for another world.” The Apostle Paul once said, “But I do not account my life of any value nor as precious to myself, if only I may finish my course and the ministry that I received from the Lord Jesus, to testify to the gospel of the grace of God (Acts 20:24).”

I am not a brave man. I still have a propensity to sweat even the small stuff. But I am humbled by the grace of God that, in the scheme of things, through that daily feeling of “other-ness,” I often conquer the “fear of the tragic ending.” If I was worried that every step might result in imminent doom, I would have never left Crawford, never moved from Abilene, never flew out of DFW, never landed in Romania, never lived in China, never experienced Kenya, and never moved to South Korea.

I have found freedom along this road: No decision of mine—whether good or bad—can alter where I am heading eternally. No emotion that I feel—whether happy or sad—can change who He is eternally. And nothing—even angels or demons—can separate me from His love. “For to me to live is Christ, and to die is gain (Philippians 1:21).”

Here’s the reality—I am going to die some day. I know we don’t like to talk about it, but it’s going to happen. No matter when or how that comes about, it doesn’t discount the amazing stops I have had along the way—not to mention the amazing place I will be going, the amazing saints I will be joining, the amazing banquet we will be sharing, the amazing grace I will be singing about, and the amazing King who I will be beholding forever. Until then, I am so glad that the Lord, and the people He’s placed around me, haven’t just let me sit at home and let my engine rust.

So long, mile marker 30! I look forward to what’s ahead.