Who am I supposed to be? What is my new normal?

Underneath the seemingly endless dynamism of this transition period of my life, these questions run like a steady stream. I am careful to not answer either of them too quickly, for fear of adopting a brittle answer because of its ease and availability. These must be hard fought and slowly gained.

It was a cool 62º this morning, as I rocked on those wooden chairs on the Auburn Christian Fellowship porch. I could hear the birds chirp in the slow orange and yellow shimmers of the trees around this red brick building. Sigur Ros and Jon Foreman sang their contemplative tunes and these questions surfaced for a moment yet again.

Day two in Alabama has shown that this job of campus minister is ostensibly meant for the fearless extrovert. Another late night of games with students and fourthmeal runs taunted the old man living in these bones. Despite my more preferential leanings, I met another 40 people yesterday, all while watching the energy drain slowly from me. Is this really meant for me? Could I sustain this life?

The porch chair rocked back and forth, and I wondered if this is what life will be like now. “Surely goodness and mercy will follow me, in the House of God forever.” Jon kept singing it in my ears.

And I wondered about the somewheres. Somewhere between death to self and the goodness of God’s creation in me is the place where I am moving toward. Somewhere in this tension of late nights and contemplative mornings, I am moving toward living in the mercy of God.

The questions still hang. The somewheres still seem elusive. And the birds tweet on.

Surely goodness and mercy will follow me, in the House of God forever.

Still Wandering,

Tony