Turning 25

I was terrified of turning 25. It would be a moment of reckoning. Whatever state of accomplishment at the quarter century mark would be a litmus test result of my self worth.

That dreaded date has finally come, and it's not as bad I thought. Maybe that's because I feel better about where I'm at in life. I'm certainly glad to have moved on from Apple and to have settled into the university life. The prospects head feel good.

Does this contentment come only because my plans are "under control?" How swiftly they can change! Already I feel cracks of potential tension. My health has flashed warning signs and I can almost predict that it will wreck havoc on my schooling. My income is limited. I've been told that I'll do well in school, but of that there is no guarantee. I've ruined my potential many times in the past, and that can certainly happen again.

This last year has been a season of letting go, of new vistas, and of small blessings. I've said goodbye for good to long held career ambitions at Apple. I've had an important trip cancelled at the last minute. My health has been violate, leaving major repercussions. But I'm happy with the small, local school that seems just right for my needs. I've received satisfying success in my writing. I've been given a ministry at church that suits me so very well. Crowded amongst these major events events are countless small blessings; an unexpectedly lovely week with Malcolm Guite, friendships both new and renewed, a room filled with bookshelves and art.

Ah, things. All very good, of that there is no question. They are gifts that our Creator gives us, and we see His hand of blessing through them. But how quickly they consume.

Are my standards for what makes a year good based primarily on how I feel about my accomplishments, accomplishments that fade so quickly? They are truly fragile. As I live my 25th year, may I learn to find my stability in the Lord and His character. May I see the effects of his hand in my life, and find my contentment in them rather than my own strivings for success.

Twenty Four

In the past, birthday mornings have been typically cheerful occasions, but not this twenty-forth morning. I rose early to prepare for work and despaired over my situation. Twenty four years, one less from twenty five, and what have I done with myself? I know men in my position who are working on their second degree, or married, or who are off having adventures around the world. And here I was, no close to my ambitions than I was a year ago, still in my parents home, working a position that betrays my years poured into the company - in short, a mess of a man. In one year I will be 25 years old. If I were to then find myself in the same position, how could I face myself? I shuddered to think of where that despair might lead me.

The morning sun and Paul Simon's Graceland in my headphones cheered me up by the time I arrived at work, where the hugs and well-wishes of my many friends greeted me.  But it was mid-morning text from my pastor, Gavin, who forced a change of perspective and attitude on me. "Grace to you as you celebrate another year of God's mercies to you."

Mercies to you. Now that's a different way of looking at things. With such perspective, my success is not measured by how well I've done with myself, but by how gracious my Creator has been to me. What have I to complain about, really? What do I actually deserve? In such light, these years have been mercies indeed.

He continued. "It's been wonderful to watch how the Lord has grown you in these past few years. Keep on." With this attitude, I'm not looking at what I've done well and what I've achieved, but what the Lord has done in me. This is progress of a different kind, a supernatural work that I can not account for on my own. How could I give up? How could I discard His handiwork in me?

I reflected on the days that made up this last year. There have been few notable events to mark it, and, unlike the year before, less dark clouds of troubled turmoil. I got sick for several months. I wrote some things I was proud of. I was successful in a somewhat unchallenging work environment. I happily spent several months on my own. I planned an exciting trip to Portland and complete a graduate level college course. In short, the had the typical share of pleasures, events, disappointments, heartache, and ups and downs.

That evening, my family and a handful of excellent friends gathered on our beautiful acreage. We ate dozens of chicken kebabs, baskets of fresh pita breads, bowls of fruit and salad, about two chocolate cakes, and Chemex after Chemex of coffee, all prepared by my sisters while I was at work. We laughed, partly because of the sharp wits on display in that room, but mostly in delight over these remarkable people and the joy they brought. My parents told stories of their courtship while training teens on tall ships, stories that looked back and remembered with gratefulness.

We then pulled into the music room and gathered around the grand piano. Violins, clarinets, and guitars were produced, a couple iPads served as our hymnals, and for about an hour we sang some of my favourite songs: "Let Us Love and Sing and Wonder," Let All Mortal Flesh Be Silent," "Erie Canal" (the Bruce Springsteen song, not a hymn), "Jesus I My Cross Have Taken," "Oh Perfect Love Come Near to Me," and "On Jordan's Stormy Banks I Stand".

Farewells were said. Hugs were exchanged. Guests departed to their corners of the city and our family headed into our rooms and to bed. And so I am content. Not because things couldn't be better. Not the because the frustration will end. Not because things have changed. But because I can trust the One who is guiding me, and I can see his hand at work.

"Soul, then know thy full salvation

Rise o’er sin and fear and care

Joy to find in every station,

Something still to do or bear.

Think what Spirit dwells within thee,

Think what Father’s smiles are thine,

Think that Jesus died to win thee,

Child of heaven, canst thou repine."

Twenty-Three Years Old

Originally written September 3rd, 2015

"But I trust in you, O Lord;

I say, “You are my God.” 

My times are in your hand"

~Psalm 31:14-15a, 

It was a year of struggles and disappointments, cutting deeper and longer than any I've felt before.

It was a year of yearning and waiting, being taught to trust the hand of the One Who works all things.

It was a year of growth and endeavours, quiet and unlooked for, sweet in their steadiness.

It was a year of goodness in the Gospel, of tasting that which is yet unseen.

And so I'm being conformed to the image of His Son, for in Him is the consolation of every heartache and the aim of every endeavour. He winds them all that they may spin to showcase Him. And in Him I am satisfied.

Twenty-Three Years Old.

22

It's my 22nd birthday today, but by now,  the years tick by with less formality. I've traded that  for a heightened sense of time passing quickly. I’m 22 and unequivocally an adult. This life is now the real thing and its urgency is constantly present.

I look back on last year; 365 days of Paul Simon’s sole diamonds and lists of simple beauties, losses, and delights. Winter winds have littered disappointment and like Llewyn Davis, my scarf has been blown by achin’ pain. But my boots were warm and the frustrations and setbacks were matched by moments I've collected and gathered. I’ve been treading water in the shadowlands, but I've seeing the golden light of evening cross my front porch. 

There are many faces throughout this year, a crowd of precious people. They were there to wish me well when I passed by and, if I paused, they shared with me snippets of their world. Then there is my family who have seen the worst but still support and carry me on in love. Mentors have pressed me forward, reminding my of my Father’s love and realigning me when I stray. Dear friends - all the more valuable for the scarcity - in confiding me with their broken failures, give me permission to impart my fears to them. And there are faces whom I’ve grown up with that have become more unexpectedly longed for each time they return into my sphere.

Through it all I’m confronted; brought face to face with my own failings. I realize the depth of selfishness that permeates my soul and how I'm constantly seeking my own pleasure. Everything I long and grasp for is to please myself alone. I doge this honest truth for so much of my waking hours, but then the hard rock of its bold truth tears a hole in the floorboards of my once-so-solid ship. The harsh cold waters of reality then come rushing in and I’m sinking sailor, a quickly drowning man.

But there is life in these dead bones and its vivacity is surly not native to me. Repentance requires repetition - not because its propitiator is finite and its salvation redundant but because I’m in such constant need of repair. Christ, through great consequence to himself, has forgiven me yet I need his Gospel more then ever. Dear Lord, apply it to my soul!

Launching my bark into this year's waters, may You, oh Lord,  be the Harbour to which I flee, the Captain at my helm, and the Spirit in my sails. I’ve been greatly troubled in spirit, but have found my Anchor who sustains. His constance is my only solace, his comfort my lasting cheer.