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Our month’s journey back in the Bahamas has given me much to think about. I’m always plagued with a bizarre mix of emotions whenever I return. The relationships from friends and loved ones is always more than enough to tug on our hearts for those moments we so enjoyed in ministry and fellowship so many years ago. And then there is the palpable reminders of the challenges and difficulties that we grew so accustomed to that we forgot they were there. It isn’t until you leave that you realize how much you take for granted.
This trip was also unique as we met many Abaconians who had been displaced because of hurricane Dorian. Their homes were lost, their possessions destroyed. Many had to change jobs, locations, and schools. In addition to those who were affected by the storm are our friends on Eleuthera who have been affected by age and illness. One dear friend who we’ve known for almost 20 years was just diagnosed with cancer; and the doctors are prescribing radiation and chemo, which is never good news. Another past coworker has resigned due to deteriorating mental health, and she sometimes doesn’t even recognize loved ones anymore.
These realities are reminders that we long for a home that is unlike this one – where we strain and suffer. They are unwelcome prods and pokes that rouse us from places of comfort and even drive us from the tranquility that we thought could be permanent. They move us to action and then to desperation because we wrestle with the tension between the seen and the unseen.
The Apostle Paul says that we must learn to fix our eyes on that which is unseen because the visible world is temporary.
Somewhat like our trip back to the Bahamas, it was a temporary journey. We knew the dates of our arrival and departure, and so we endeavored to maximize our time. My calendar was filled with as many speaking events and I was invited to and the down time was spent playing with our kids and working while the sun was still up. But this journey has reminded me again that we are not home yet. If as you read this, whether in your recliner or in transit, you are only passing through. Our tickets are already punched for a departure date which we aren’t privy to. All you have is this day before you now, to choose to live in light of eternity or vanity.
May the nature of this world’s gifts and demons cause you to long for the permanence of that world yet unseen, and may we meet each other there, where the waters are always blue and the days are long.