Almost half of the boxes were fully packed. All needed to do was pick up the key to my new place and in a matter of 48 hours I would be moved in and on a plane to California. It would be fast and chaotic, but I was caffeinated and ready.
Key acquired. On the way home to grab my first load of boxes, I popped in the new house just to take a peek– it had been 2 months since I saw it last. As soon as I opened the door, something wasn’t right. A floor full of dead bugs. Gross, but I can sweep. I walked in the bathroom and noticed a fuzz. I walked back in the kitchen and noticed it there too. It was covering the cabinets and other hard surfaces– mold.
Ok. Not what I expected.
I’m not a quick decision maker, but in a matter of hours I was out of my lease, returned the key, taught a piano lesson, and was moving my first load of boxes 30 minutes away to my parents’ basement. 48 hours later I was on a plane to California. A week and a half later I was “home” to my parents’ Airstream camper and a mess of boxes. A week after that, and it’s starting to feel like home.
Sometimes life just happens and you roll with it.
In the Las Vegas airport on the way home, I found out my 7 hours in Nevada airports (5 in Reno + 2 in Las Vegas) was about to turn into 10+ due to a delayed flight. First, I cried. Then, I laughed, because given the past few weeks, why WOULDN’T something like this happened? Then, I took out my Bible and journal. It just seemed like the thing to do amidst the noise of slot machines and airport chaos. I curled up on a seat in the grimy gate area (religiously rolling on my Thieves!) and opened to 1 John.
I have read 1 John many times, but this time I was struck by the first 4 verses. I read them repeatedly, underlining and making notes of the thing that seemed so new.
Jesus was made to be experienced.
In these 4 verses, sensory verbs are used repeatedly.
“which we have heard…”
“which we have seen with our eyes…”
“which we looked upon…”
“touched with our hands…”
There’s more, but you get the point. Jesus was never intended to be acknowledged from afar. No. Jesus was…. He is, meant to be interactive.
That’s why He became flesh that could be touched and seen and heard. He came and interacted with this world and created a way that we might interact with Him. Because He knows that at our core we are made to experience Him, and He made a way for us to experience Him fully.
But what does that mean today? When Jesus isn’t presently on this earth and I can’t reach out and touch Him. I can’t see Him.
It means I open my eyes. It means when I don’t understand, I choose to engage, because Jesus might be there.
It means I see Him in as Airstream camper full of half-emptied boxes.
It means I feel Him in a chaotic airport and in the stress of delayed flights.
It means I hear Him in the midst of processing family heartache.
In the moments when I want to hide, or be angry, or resent, or reject the gift:
I engage. I embrace. I experience.
Because Jesus might be there, waiting to meet me in the catastrophe and reveal His heart to the mess in mine.
So a week into Airstream living and it isn’t half bad. I don’t know how long I will be here. I don’t know what’s “next.” I don’t know why sometimes life gets so weird.
But I do know this:
Jesus is here.