Different.

It is quite interesting to look back across this last year. It’s interesting to see how much I’ve changed and grown in every possible way. I can see it in my journal chicken-scratch, I can see it in my posts, I can see it in my relationships. I like the idea of maturing, even though it is a process coated in colors that tend to taint the skin, colors that burn and are not pleasant to experience. It’s always worth it, the outcome anyway. Every year I reflect, I see that process I went through and the maturing God blessed me with, but I still saw me. Now I see an entirely different person.

I’m finding myself these days sitting in a season of rest, refreshment and reflection. I don’t know if the South Africans that have been my company for these last 250+ days see the difference and I don’t know if those state-side that were my company in the past will see the difference, But to be entirely honest with you, I feel the difference in who I have become deeper than my bones.

Phil Edwards said, “There is a need in all of us for controlled danger. That is, there is a need for an activity that puts us on the edge of life. There are uncounted millions of people, right now, who are going through life without any sort of real vibrant kick. The legions of the unjazzed.”

I’ve never wanted to be a member of the unjazzed legions, a member of a crew of individuals who never took any risks, never faced danger head on – those groups that sit comfortably in there comfy chairs so long that it has the imprints of their ass. I dreaded the idea of becoming a member of that society. So my entire life I have done everything I could to be in the legions of the jazzed, to be in the life-style that risks it all so that they may move with the ebb and flow of the raw-side of this world, in order to truly live.

When you move to a foreign country, all by yourself something happens. That ‘life’ cup you had, that cup that formed your identity and security (and essentially makes up all you are) gets emptied. Living in America we have the luxuries of filling up that cup daily, rarely does it get half-empty, if even close to dry. You fill it up with material possessions that bring you comfort, you fill it with family and friends, you fill it by succeeding in American expectations, with rewards, with promotions, with compliments, with financial security, with social acceptance, with cultural comforts, you fill it by being busy, using every minute of every day and you may even save a small degree of that cup for God’s love to comfort you and bring you some identity.

But like I said, something happens when you leave your home-land, your culture, your society, your social network – your cup runs dry and you have no way to re-fill it, no way at all. Except with God. This year was hard, my cup was very dry for a very long time and it was a risk I didn’t realize I didn’t want to take. It was an experience that tasted awful in the midst.

But I guess that is why I am so vastly different today, so different from that girl I was at the beginning of 2011. I guess being a member of the jazzed, taking that risk, emptying the cup… actually filled my cup, filled it with something different, with a substantial substance that has stained the inner lining with a different hue.

If I find in myself a desire which no experience in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that I was made for another world.

~C.S. Lewis