Epilogue: "...lead me in the way of everlasting."

This morning, I rise at the break of dawn to a house of sleeping loved-ones. I make my way to the kitchen, attempt a Latte with the new-fangled espresso machine, and find my perch on the front porch swing. Coffee in hand, I am awed by the serine beauty around me. The maple trees are filled with a chorus of birds singing, as their leaves filter the young sun’s rays. The horse on the far hill also seems to be enjoying the morning delights as he flicks his tail to and fro as if dancing to nature’s music. A red-necked hummingbird chooses his breakfast-nectar from a myriad of colorful flowers on the porch steps. Rising above a layer of wispy clouds, the blue mountains ahead of me create a heavenly background for this morning tranquility.

Such an environment seems the perfect setting for beginning the enormous task of mental processing. If only the peace and order of Tennessee’s natural beauty could be quickly internalized without process. But transitioning from the tropics of heavily trafficked Ibadan, Nigeria to East Tennessee is a physical, mental, and emotional process, so process I must.

The last few weeks have indeed entailed a tumult of emotion. Saying goodbye to beloved students, co-workers, and friends who have become like family was extremely difficult for me—not to mention the beautiful children at Jesus Kids.  Thankfully, the pain was slightly ameliorated when my sister and friend—Crystal and Cristina—came for a visit two weeks ago. I so enjoyed getting to introduce them to my ACA family as well as a bit of Nigerian culture. I’ve been beyond blessed to enjoy three visits from friends and family during my stay in Nigeria—my friend Caroline Rose, my parents, and now my sister! What a beautiful privilege.

Events of the last couple of weeks included many going-away parties: two hosted by students, one at NAMPAK (South African compound), one prayer and praise send-off at school, and one all-staff send-off. Each was extremely meaningful and emotional. There’s nothing like final goodbye’s to make you feel loved—and boy do I feel loved. Sadly, the disorder that my college friends dubbed “emotional constipation” continues to plague me—which simply means that instead of the natural process of tears flowing from my eyes, all of the emotion gets clogged in my head, chest, and stomach, producing some serious physical pain and sporadic moanings and groanings. It’s a real difficulty.

Some of the hardest goodbyes were to those students into whom I have poured my heart, whether through counseling chats, class discussions, or discipleship club. This morning, though, God offered some encouragement through John 1 where I read,

“Again the next day John was standing with two of his disciples, and he looked at Jesus as He walked, and said, 'Behold, the Lamb of God!’ The two disciples heard him speak, and they followed Jesus.”

Though we don’t know exactly how long John has been preaching and discipling before Jesus came, we can reasonably assume that he had invested plenty of his time and heart into these two disciples. What amazed me was how quick John was to point them to Jesus and release them to His care. It’s amazing to be because it’s so contrary to my natural inclination. My disordered affection causes me to want to hold onto, claim protection over, and be the ultimate help to those I claim to love. Perhaps that’s why goodbyes are so hard for me. But John corrects my faulty impulse. True love, true discipleship requires giving over those we love to Jesus. Ultimately, they must not be our disciples, our children, our friends, our students, but HIS.  Clinging demonstrates not only a lack of true love for them, but a lack of trust in the one in whose care we are to leave them.  Indeed, change such as I’m experiencing truly tests one’s trust and reveals any flaw or misdirection in one’s love. Through it, I pray along with David, “Search me oh God, and know my heart. Test me and know my anxious thoughts. See if there is any wicked way in me, and lead me in the way of everlasting forever. Amen.” (Ps 139)

This transition will test my level of trust and stretch my faith in new ways. Next month I head off to Phoenix, Arizona where I will join old friends in habitation and profession. I’ll be teaching 9^th Grade Humane Letters and 6^th Grade History at Trivium Preparatory Academy and living with several super college friends. I’m looking forward to the new adventures ahead, but am not unaware of the impending inevitable challenges as I reintegrate into American culture.

Questions continue to swirl in my head: How do I hold on to what I’ve learned in the past three years without haughtily isolating myself from those God will place in my life?  How can I continue to live in the new faith that God has given me while living now is such a different environment? How can I best serve and impact the American church with the experiences and perspective that God has given me while in Nigeria? My own processing capabilities seem too limited when faced with such questions.

So as I sit on my porch swing, observing His glory and inhaling His grace, contemplating my future and my past, I resolve not look inward for answers, order, and peace, but to look to Him—the Logos, the creator of this order and beauty that I behold, the Alpha and Omega. To Him I present my supplication: “…lead me in the way of everlasting.”