Bumpy Transitions
July 23, 2013
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We didn't know we formed a heart <3[/caption]
Last week we loaded up the Traverse and headed to Corolla beach in the Outer Banks. We joined my dad, step-mom, and my twin 13-year-old brothers, my brother and his family, and my sister and her family in a big ol’ house for the week. There were 19 of us all together (11 of which were children!). The weather was perfect so I took Sheryl Crow’s advice and soaked up the sun while it’s still free.
But now that I’m back from enjoying time away with my family, I am having a hard time getting that vacation mindset out of my brain. At first I thought it was like a vacation hangover—you know, needing a vacation from your vacation. But to be honest, I think I’m just sad to be away from the beach. It was also great to have nowhere I needed to be. The days seemed longer since I didn’t have to get to a game, doctor’s appointment, or oil change.
I miss watching my nephews do their Michael Jackson impersonations. I miss making fun of my little brothers and getting kicked out of the hammock by my niece.
It’s so weird having that kind of week and then just like that, you return to burnt grass that still managed to grow like crazy, a garden full of weeds, an empty refrigerator, deadlines, loads of laundry, and a packed schedule. My kids that were just willing to try new things are now back to being picky eaters. Their loving attitude to all get along at the beach has now expired and they are again ready to rumble over just about anything. It’s like we were in a different world for a week.
I sat down this morning to write my first article in a while only to discover that my brain just wasn’t into it. I think it’s still at the beach. All this made me reflect on a similar transition I have every Monday. On Sunday, our family of believers gather together to worship our great King. It is a gracious eschatological interruption into our week. We get to have the pleasure of the future actually breaking into the present as we corporately worship our Lord and Savior. We receive God’s promised means of grace through the preached word and the sacraments, and pray together. And then we are sent off with a benediction.
In one sense, we should be all the more ready to face the world. We have been refueled, so to speak. We have a day of rest, a day to receive, to taste and see that the Lord is good. Now in gratitude and passion for all he has done for us, we go out into the world ready to serve our neighbor.
But on the other hand, there’s a sadness, a longing for the consummation of the age to come. We want to see Jesus face to face, and dwell with him on the new heaven and new earth for eternity. Sometimes Mondays make me ask, “How long?”
I’m reminded of what C.S. Lewis says in The Weight of Glory: “Meanwhile the cross comes before the crown and tomorrow is Monday morning” (45).
We didn't know we formed a heart <3[/caption]
Last week we loaded up the Traverse and headed to Corolla beach in the Outer Banks. We joined my dad, step-mom, and my twin 13-year-old brothers, my brother and his family, and my sister and her family in a big ol’ house for the week. There were 19 of us all together (11 of which were children!). The weather was perfect so I took Sheryl Crow’s advice and soaked up the sun while it’s still free.
But now that I’m back from enjoying time away with my family, I am having a hard time getting that vacation mindset out of my brain. At first I thought it was like a vacation hangover—you know, needing a vacation from your vacation. But to be honest, I think I’m just sad to be away from the beach. It was also great to have nowhere I needed to be. The days seemed longer since I didn’t have to get to a game, doctor’s appointment, or oil change.
I miss watching my nephews do their Michael Jackson impersonations. I miss making fun of my little brothers and getting kicked out of the hammock by my niece.
It’s so weird having that kind of week and then just like that, you return to burnt grass that still managed to grow like crazy, a garden full of weeds, an empty refrigerator, deadlines, loads of laundry, and a packed schedule. My kids that were just willing to try new things are now back to being picky eaters. Their loving attitude to all get along at the beach has now expired and they are again ready to rumble over just about anything. It’s like we were in a different world for a week.
I sat down this morning to write my first article in a while only to discover that my brain just wasn’t into it. I think it’s still at the beach. All this made me reflect on a similar transition I have every Monday. On Sunday, our family of believers gather together to worship our great King. It is a gracious eschatological interruption into our week. We get to have the pleasure of the future actually breaking into the present as we corporately worship our Lord and Savior. We receive God’s promised means of grace through the preached word and the sacraments, and pray together. And then we are sent off with a benediction.
In one sense, we should be all the more ready to face the world. We have been refueled, so to speak. We have a day of rest, a day to receive, to taste and see that the Lord is good. Now in gratitude and passion for all he has done for us, we go out into the world ready to serve our neighbor.
But on the other hand, there’s a sadness, a longing for the consummation of the age to come. We want to see Jesus face to face, and dwell with him on the new heaven and new earth for eternity. Sometimes Mondays make me ask, “How long?”
I’m reminded of what C.S. Lewis says in The Weight of Glory: “Meanwhile the cross comes before the crown and tomorrow is Monday morning” (45).
