There is nothing quite like discovering that part of your dreams, when realized, are actually your worst nightmares. Certainly many dreams that come to fruition are quite beautiful and beyond expectation, but every now and then there is some hope, some wish that seems to go horribly wrong. For some folks it is getting the old classic car only to find out that the damn thing breaks down every other block, gets 15 gallons to the mile, and is nearly impossible to find parts for. However, my issue is not a broken car. My dream was going to a great school, studying theology, living in cold weather, and having squirrels try to trip me as I walk down the sidewalk on the way to class. And I got all of this.
Unfortunately, this dream has vacillated back and forth from being a gift to being my worst nightmare. I applied to Duke University Divinity School for a Master of Theology program in New Testament Studies. The school is in North Carolina. So, good school: check. Studying theology: check. Living in amazing weather: check. Getting my walking path sabotaged by squirrels:…well, not really though I am certain they would trip me if they had the chance (In fact, I think they have been plotting on me all semester). Instead they chase each other around the school which is the next best thing for me, so check. I got it all. So what is the problem? What could I possibly bitch about that would make the starving kids in China feel bad for me (Okay, the starving kids in China should NEVER feel bad for someone like me, but you get where I am going with this, right?)?
Much of the dream has been good and I would not complain about it. The weather here is unbeatable, the trees in autumn are gorgeous, and I have learned theological things that are mind-bendingly amazing. Good stuff. All of it. The nightmare side of the dream creeps in and warps the picture as time goes on. It is the cost of the dream that is working me over; the benefits do not seem to outweigh the price being paid. I walked away from a wonder church community, an amazing girlfriend, incredible friends, and my family. And I managed to lose a sense of who I am in the process. I live far away from my “story” and have trouble figuring out where I fit in this new one.
So, go back, right? Well, this is the nightmare part: I do not think I can. The church community I loved fell apart, the girl I loved I drove away by my selfish choices (two words here: remorse and regret), and a couple of friendships that were most important to me have been irreparably damaged for a variety of reasons. I still have other friends and my family (I love you, Mum), by the grace of God, but much of why I would want to come back disintegrated. There is a home I dream of now that is just an unreachable whisper from the past. If I could change it all, I would, but it is too late.
So, am I without hope? I hope not. While I am completely at a loss for vision and perspective lately (you are thinking, “Uh…Yeah! This is the most depressing thing I have read all day”), I still have hope in one reality: the triune God of the Judeo-Christian story. Through every mistake I have ever made, through every bad decision, through every thing that has gone right, this God has been there. This God has a pretty good track record with many people and situations. Out of the ashes of Jerusalem, out of captivity in Babylon, He has rescued those who were completely lost. He resurrected his Son and inaugurated new life and a new reality that will one day overtake this current broken one we are all in. So, if God can help rescue a nation from near-complete cultural devastation and can raise the dead, then I have to believe that He can rescue me too…which should not be too hard to do when the one in need of rescue lives in the most affluent country in the world, has plenty of food to eat, has plenty of clothes, and can actually post stupid things like this on the internet.
So, when is my rescue? Well, theologically speaking, my rescue attempt began well before I was born. It started about two millennia ago and is actually coming upon one of its annual commemoration celebrations, Christmas. God broke into the world then, was born into poverty, and met the world as Jesus. Through his death and resurrection the power of sin and death was broken. Now, as far as when this new reality will sink into my think head and soul and allow me to find a new dream, an identity or a home, that is anyone’s guess. I can be awfully stubborn. Perhaps this Advent season is the perfect time to get my mental and spiritual house in order, though I am convinced I will need a bit of help in this. In fact, I think I will have to contract this job out to the Spirit of God, because I do not have it in me to even begin.
Advent is a time to wait, a time to hope. It marks the time when God’s people waited for the coming of the Messiah to rescue us from ourselves. Since that Messiah came, it also is a time to wait for him to come back and finish what he started. And since I am not sure when that ultimate consummation and restoration will be, I think I will wait and hope, too, for the personal things in life that I worry about. I hope and pray that this Advent season that I can learn a little bit more about what home is, where it is, and how to get there. I want to come home. But in the mean time, I will wait.
