I was listening to a Tim Keller sermon the other day while running on one of the exhilarating treadmill's of the Y; I happened to turn on my ipod and it was the first thing to come on the shuffle. It was the first of a series called "Living with the end in view." My cousin, Parker, has said this phrase to me over the past few years. Anytime I start to worry or become frustrated, he will tell me to stay strong and keep living with the end in view. I can remember some of the first few times he said it to me- I would just say "I know," when really I had no idea what he was talking about...and I may never fully understand the depth and freedom of those words, but I would like to think I'm becoming more aware of their meaning and what it looks like to actually live them out.
Throughout the sermon, Keller told a short story about a friend of his who was a missionary. He said the man was struggling with finding a sense of fulfillment as a missionary and began questioning why God had put him where he was. The friend wanted to know what God was expecting him to do next in order to feel as if he had answered his calling; he was living everyday waiting for God to remove his burdens. The friend goes on to explain how he was walking home one afternoon and he looked over and saw a butterfly struggling to get out of its cocoon. The man watched for a while before he couldn't take it anymore. He got out his pocket knife (I'd like to think it was a Swiss army knife), and he cut a tiny slit in the cocoon so as to free what he expected to be a full-grown butterfly. Unfortunately, as he watched the butterfly effortlessly make its way out of the cocoon, he realized it hadn't fully transformed- it was half butterfly, half caterpillar. He was heartbroken. He wanted to relieve the creature of its struggle, and because of this, it was then forced to live a life of constant struggle- the caterpillar would never become the butterfly it was meant to be. It would always be deformed.
This analogy, to me, was an eye opener I didn't want at the time. I often find, when I am going through a valley, that I want out of it as soon as possible. I want to hike out of it, no matter how slippery the sides are; No matter how steep and hard the fall would be. I want to drop everything I'm carrying, no matter how much I may need it once I get out, because it's too heavy to carry at the time. It becomes almost impossible, in those moments, to be swept away. To let go of that tiny, dried up branch and let this life carry me down stream. To fight my way out of the cocoon, because without the struggle I will walk through life aimlessly deformed.
All of this immediately makes me think of Psalm 23.
The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He makes me to lie down in green pastures: he leads me beside the still waters. He restores my soul: he leads me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me. Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.
I can remember memorizing this as a kid- and I can honestly say I had no idea how beautiful these words were at the time.
He is our shepherd. He leads us. He restores us. He is with us. He comforts us. He is our protector, provider, our Father and our redeemer. He is our everything.
This summer is going to be a major time of transition for me. I'll be leaving my job, leaving the country, starting grad school in the fall and I have no idea how any of this is going to look. One thing I am sure of, one thing I have confidence in, is going to Ukraine to see these amazing kids. We are flying to Ukraine on June 27. We will fly into Kiev and from there we will take a bus to Kharkov. I cannot wait to step off that hot, stinky bus after 9 (maybe 10) hours of driving and get to see all their faces. Our struggles may be different, our dreams and aspirations may be polar opposites, but for the time we're at camp, none of that matters.
The only thing that matters is them. These kids have so much to offer. So much joy, in spite of their abandonment. So much laughter, in spite of their pain. I know our Father longs to know them in the same way he longs to know us. I am beyond blessed to be a part of this trip, and even though life may be stressful at times, it doesn't matter...because we're not truly living unless we're living for Him. It's worth every struggle when we're living with the end in view.
